The Very Speedy Prayer
My mother always taught me to concentrate on prayer.
Sit up straight, close your eyes, donīt fiddle with your hair.
I never thought Iīd see the day, Iīd have to sprint while praying,
Not a very holy sight, with all my limbs a flaying.
Now, before you scowl, and purse your lips,
With Christian indignation.
Please listen to the reason,
For my Godless demonstration.
Upon a very distant bridge,
I saw a flash of red.
I knew at once,
It was the hat, on Jacob Jamesī head
Well of course I tried to call him back,
As all good mothers do.
But Jacob did not listen,
For you see heīs not yet two.
The bridge was twelve feet off the ground.
Below, a swirling lake.
I saw it smack its greedy lips,
Hungry for my Jake.
Across the bridge, a busy road,
Where lorries passed all day.
Believe me, this is not the place,
For tiny tots to play
So I really had no choice you see,
He thought it was a game.
I had to catch him quickly.
So, to my mortal shame
I didnīt kneel or clasp my hands,
Or even bow my head.
I simply called out,
"Oh my God, please help me or heīs dead".
Now, they say Godīs omnipresent,
and I reckon it is true,
You see at that very moment,
Jacob ran out of his shoe.
No lorry squashed his little head;
He did not drown;
He was not dead;
So I think a special friend of mine,
Heard this motherīs scream.
And despite the very speedy prayer,
Thought He would intervene.