By Gertrude Davis © 1987
Issue: June, 1987
When photographs were strange and new
And in the highlands, there were few,
There were sly pranksters bent on jokes
Especially aimed at older folks.
A devout couple, rich in years,
Lived in a style much like their peers
Near a dirt road on clearing space,
A tranquil forest bounded place.
The wife went out to see a friend,
She knew there were the sick to tend.
The husband was alone at home
Except for boys free to roam.
They wound up a Victrola's arm
In the backyard without alarm.
On this night in early June,
They played a well known gospel tune.
The wife came back to her own house
To find an agitated spouse.
"I must depart this present life
I heard the angels sing, dear wife."