A Roman `Miracle`

A Pretty maid, a goodly wife, was to a Catholic wed,

To love all Bible truths and tales, from childhood she`d been bred,

 It sorely grieved her husband`s heart that she would not comply,

To join the mother church of Rome and heretics deny.

So day by day he flattered her, but still she saw no good,

Would ever come from bowing down to idols made of wood,

The Mass, the host, the `miracles`, were all made to deceive,

And `transubstantiation`, too, she never would believe.

So he went to see his Catholic priest and told him his sad tale,

``My wife`s an unbeliever, sir, perhaps you can prevail,

For all your Roman `miracles` my wife has strong aversion,

To really work a `miracle` may lead to her conversion.

The priest went with the gentleman, for he thought to gain a prize,

He said, ``I will convert her sir and open both her eyes.``

So when they came into the house, the husband loudly cried,

``The priest has come to dine with us!``

``He`s welcome,`` she replied.

And when at last the meal was o`er, the priest at once began,

To teach his hostess all about the sinful state of man;

The greatness of our Saviour`s love, which Christians can`t deny,

To give Himself a sacrifice and for our sins to die.

``I will return tomorrow, lass, so prepare some bread and wine,

The sacremental `miracle` will stop your soul`s decline,

``I`ll bake the bread,`` the man`s wife said, ``You may,`` he did reply,

``And when you`ve seen this `miracle`, convinced you`ll be, say I.``

The priest did come accordingly, the bread and wine did bless,

The man`s wife asked, ``Sir, is it changed?``

The priest he answered, ``Yes!``

``It`s changed from common bread and wine to truly flesh and blood,

Begorra, lass, this power of mine has changed it into God!``

So having blessed the bread and wine, to eat they did prepare,

The man`s wife said unto the priest, ``I warn you sir, take care,

For half an ounce of Arsenic I mixed into the batter,

But since you have its` nature changed, it really shouldn`t matter.``

The priest was struck completely dumb and looked as pale as death,

The bread and wine fell from his hands and he did gasp for breath,

``Bring me my horse,`` he finally cried, ``This is a cursed home!``

The wife replied, ``That is not so, tis you that`s cursed, and Rome!``

The husband, too, was shocked and dumb, and not a word did say,

Until at length he finally said, ``The priest has run away,

 And as for me, my loving wife, I am no longer able,

To believe in Roman `miracles` and Roman- Catholic fable.``

And so the moral of this tale, is one that`s good and just,

And it is this, that to the Lord, our soul we should entrust,

For to present it to the hands, of lying, greedy priests,

Is no safer than if we`d thrown it to,

 demonic, devouring beasts.