Father John, while walking along the pavement in front of his church, heard the intoning of a prayer that nearly made hies collar wilt. Apparently, his 5 year old son, Rory, and his playmates had found a dead robin. Feeling that proper burial should be performed, they had secured a small box and some cotton wool, then dug a hole and made ready for the disposal of the deceased. Rory, the minister's son, was chosen to say the appropriate prayers and with sonorous dignity intoned his version of what he thought his father always said: Glory be unto Faaather, and unto the Sonn, and into the hole he goooes!!!
