The old Presby Pastor
Had become a recluse
For the crime he had done
There was no excuse
He had distanced himself from his family
Not even his neighbors had sighted him
He hid his face in shame
For such a major sin
Then one day
After many years had past
His grandson had come to visit him
A question he needed to ask
"Grandfather, what was it that you did?
From your goat herder neighbor
Did you sneak over,
And steal a kid?"
"No, my lad, twas not
That that I done
I knew better than to bother his goats
He had 20 sons."
"Then, my grandfather, was it
You took his wife?
Had you stole a hen
And had taken its life?"
"No, my sonny, twas none of that
His wife was a good shot
And got mad
At the drop of a hat
"Then, my grandfather,
Had you took from his distillery?"
"No, my child, I couldn't do that.
He had a strong boy that would whip me,
His name was Willy."
"I guess I will have to tell you,
My son, the crime that I did.
The crime that I committed,
My face, for 25 years, have kept hid."
"It wasn't for stealing a goat
Taking his wife or eating his hen.
It twasn't for taking from his distillery.
The vile crime that I had done
Was that I voted for Hillary.
