There lived within a country town

a dear old dame named Betty Brown.

Her cottage was not very big.

But there she kept her cow and pig,

On Sunday she would haste away

To hear the pastor preach and pray,

In him her faith was firm and strong.

Her pastor could not nothing wrong.

When she was taken ill one day,

She sent for him to read and pray.

Next morn 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 Betty, "I declare

It must have been the pastor’s prayer!"

The sickness then fell on Betty’s cow.

"It’s queer", said she "but anyhow,

I’ll fetch the pastor, that I will

and tell him my poor cow is ill"

"Oh sir", she said, "do come just now

and say a prayer for my poor cow".

The pastor knew not what to do

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 will be the end of you."

The cow got well, the good old dame,

Went off to church when Sunday came

To tell the pastor how his prayer

Had cured the cow and eased her care.

That day the pastor caught a chill

Which 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 Betty 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 pastor heard the noise below.

And then they said she wouldn’t go.

"Then let her in", was his reply

"I’ll see poor Betty before I die".

When Betty reached the pastor’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."

The pastor 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 Betty’s prayer had saved his life.

Good luck to Betty and her cow -

She beat the doctors anyhow!