Pastor Peter always had
A loving smile on his face
That hid the thoughts in his mind
And often saved him from disgrace.
He stood up in the pulpit
And looked right in place.
He coddled the congregation
With a tear during Amazing Grace.

They called him a man of God;
And assumed he was on the level.
He spent mornings with Jesus
And evenings with the devil.
A perfect place to hide his sins
Smiling down from the pulpit.
All peace and serenity he seemed.
Who would ever have guessed it?

One would think the ladies would
Be wise enough not to permit
Their daughters to stay afterward
As if he was some sainted hermit
And they were visiting a cave
High on a distant mountain trail
Not leaving them alone, just him
And a far too trusting frail.

But there never seemed to be
An end to superstitious fools
Who gladly made their offspring
Unwittingly one of Satan’s tools.
That is the way it goes sometimes
When people trust in the image
Of what they want to believe
Regardless of the final damage.