A puir wee kirk moose aa forlorn
Its furry coat fair sairly worn
Sank doon upon its bony knees
and prayed - for just a wee bit
cheese.
The tears ran doon its wee thin
cheeks
But nane could hear the saddest
squeaks
That drifted oan the cauld nicht
air
Till whiles it couldnae pray nae
mair.
Syne daylight cam, the kirk bells
rang
The doors swung open wi a bang
Communion day had come oan by
Wi wine and plates o breid held
high.
The wee moose lay as still as
daith
And watched it aa wi bated braith
Then thocht - if I keep awfu quate
A bit micht jist fa aff a plate.
And so it gazed as roond they went
Then jist as tho twas heaven sent
Whit landed richt upon its heid
Bit twa lumps o communion breid.
The staff o life lay oan the flair
-
Then, bounteous answer to his
prayer
Jist as he thocht, 'It looks fell
dry'.
Ae body couped some wine forbye.
Wee moosie stoated up the aisle
Wearin sic a boozy smile
The folk stopped singin, fair
aghast
Tae see a drunken moose walk past.
The organist fell aff his chair,
The meenister could only stare
Tae see this drunken, sinfu moose
Cavertin in his sacred hoose.
At last it staggered up the nave
Then turned and gied a happy wave
'I ken noo when its time to pray
I'll do it oan communion day'.
