SON WORSHIPERS
by John T. Baker
Four women who were Catholics
Were having tea one day
And chatting merrily until
The first one chanced to say:

“My son’s a priest,” she beamed with pride,
“Respected by all men;
When my son walks into a room,
They call him ‘Father’ then.”

“My son’s a bishop,” said the next,
A smile lit up her face;
“When my son walks into a room,
He’s called by all ‘Your Grace’.”

“My son’s a cardinal,” rejoined
The third with joy immense;
“When my son walks into a room,
They say “Your Eminence’.”

The three then waited but the fourth
Just quietly sipped her tea,
Until the others nudged her, “Well?”
She smugly spoke with glee.                                

“My son’s a stripper, six foot four,
Blue eyes, a gorgeous bod;
When my son walks into a room,
The gals cry, ‘Oh my God!’.”