Mrs. Graite had reached her limit;

    The pain no more could bear.

Her pastor's boring sermons

     Had led her to mad despair.

She invited him to dinner;

    Prepared a scrumptious meal.

He only took three bites and died,

    From the poison in the veal.

She thought, as she was led away

    In handcuffs to a cell,

"No more boring sermons

    Is worth all my time in jail."

But her prison term was short,

    'Cause the jury heard a tape

Of the preacher's boring sermons

    And acquitted Mrs. Graite.

 
Dedicated to the memory of Rev. John A. Woods whose humor continues to minister to my spirit.