I wrote this poem several years ago to counter the so-called religious healers. One would think their scams would fade away in light of our increased scientific knowledge. But that is not the case, they are still out there, on radio and TV, making their pleas for money and promising they can heal just about anyone of anything.
They can't. They are crooks, charlatans, scam artists!
Grandma is a pistol-packin'
Mama of a type
She doesn't like phony folks
Despises all their hype.
Mealy-mouthed, shifty-eyed
Characters she spurns
She's been down that road before and
She's been badly burned.
It started on a cloudless day
She met herself a man
He was tall and neatly dressed
Said his name was Sam.
He took Grandma dancing
Almost ev'ry night
She concluded way too soon
That he was Mr. Right.
But love hit Grandma big time
When Sam learned Grandma's secret
See, Grandma had a wooden leg
She hid with maxi skirts.
Now Sam, he said he didn't mind
Told her she was fine
She hugged him with her bony frame
Several hundred times.
Alas, alack, Grandma's back
Gave out one crazy night
She screamed and cried and poor ol' Sam
Damn near died of fright!
Ol' Doc Watson said she'd prob'ly
Never walk again
Without a cane or lots of help
From someone name of Sam.
Solicitous and very sweet
Sam told Grandma 'bout his friend
A preacher-man, blessed by God
Why he could cast out sin.
And more than that, he could heal
Broken backs and bones
'Course it wasn't cheap, you know
He'd help Grandma get a loan.
"Come on," said Sam, "let's hear the man
"His tent's just out of town
"Bring your checkbook just in case
"He's got your healing' down."
Ol' Grandma was a little skeered
But hurt, she went along
In fact, she ended up on stage
Before the final song.
The preacher-man grabbed her head
With great big woolly paws
He saw the devil in her eyes
Said that was sure the cause
Then he bent and whispered soft
Hands tight around her neck
"I can make you well again
"Just write a little check."
Grandma barely breathing now
Cried rasply, "I...yi...yi!"
The preacher-man yelled "Hallelujah!"
A glint in gleaming eyes.
But Grandma learned very fast
The whole thing was a farce
'Cause when the preacher-man cried "Heal!"
She fell upon her arse!
The jury ruled it self-defense
Said any fool could see
The preacher-man and Sam were bad
And it was meant to be.
Grandma caught and shot them both
When they was slipping out of town
And if they try that scam again
They'll do it sitting down!
© 2014 and 2006 by Lowell A. Anderson (Ansohn). All Rights Reserved.
