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While walking along the sidewalk in
front of his church, our minister heard the intoning of a prayer that
nearly made his collar wilt. Apparently, Little Johnny, his
five-year-old son and their Sunday school classmates had found a dead
robin. Feeling that a proper burial should be performed, they had
secured a small box and cotton batting, then dug a hole and made ready for
the disposal of the deceased. The minister's son was chosen to say the
appropriate prayers and with sonorous dignity intoned his version of what
he thought his father always said: "Glory be unto the Faaaather....
and unto the Sonnn . .....and into the hole he gooooes."
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