In a town called Accrington
There lived a mum called Rachel Thoburn.
Her house wasn’t very big.
But there she kept her cow and pig,
On Sunday she’d go away
To hear her priest preach and pray,
In him her faith was firm and strong.
For her priest did nothing wrong.
So when she took ill one day,
She sent for him to pray.
Next morning a neighbour came and said
“I’ve just popped round to make your bed.
But oh! you look quite well again!
What did you take to ease your pain?”
“Nothing” said Rachel, “I do declare
It must have been the priest’s prayer!”
Her sickness then fell on Rachel’s cow.
“It’s queer”, said she “but anyhow,
I’ll fetch the priest, oh yes I will
and tell him that my cow is ill”
“Oh sir”, she said, “do come just now
and say a prayer for my poor cow”.
The priest knew not what to do
For praying for cows was something new.
But as she put him to the test,
He promised he would do his best.
He thought the cow was nearly dead,
But, leaning over it, he said.
“Oh, Poor old beast, you look so bad,
Your poor old Missus looks so sad
If you live, you live, if you die, you do,
and that’ll be the end of you.”
The cow got well, and Rachel, her dame,
Went to church when Sunday came
To tell the priest how his prayer
Had cured the cow and eased her care.
That day the priest caught a chill
It made him feel extremely ill.
A violent cough which shook his frame
and in his throat an abscess came.
The doctor said unless it broke
He most decidedly would choke
His tender wife was in despair.
She nursed him with the greatest care.
Now, when poor Rachel heard the news.
She quickly donned her Sunday shoes,
Her bonnet and her Sunday shawl
And at the house she made a call.
The servants they began to grin
Of course, they would not let her in.
The priest heard the noise below.
And then they said she wouldn’t go.
“Then let her in”, was his reply
“I’ll see poor Rachel before I die”.
When Rachel reached the priest’s bed.
She gently coughed and then she said.
“I can’t pray much, I don’t know how,
but when you prayed for my poor cow,
I learned that prayer and now I’ll pray
And this is what I mean to say.
Oh! Poor old beast, you look so bad,
Your poor Old Missus looks so sad.
If you live, you live, if you die you do,
and that will be the end of you.”
Well, the priest laughed enough to choke
And all at once his abscess broke.
He felt no pain, his throat was clear,
And he had nothing else to fear.
And then he told his gentle wife
How Rachel’s prayer had saved his life.
Good luck to Rachel and her cow –
She beat the doctors anyhow!