The Worship War of 1901

The New Church Organ
By Will M. Carleton

They’ve got a brand new organ, Sue,
For all their fuss and search;
They've done just as they said they'd do,
And fetched it into church.
They're bound the critter shall be seen,
And on the preacher's right,
They've hoisted up their new machine
In everybody's sight.
They've got a chorister and choir,
Ag'n my voice and vote;
For it was never my desire,
To praise the Lord by note!

I've been a sister good an' true,
For five and thirty year;
I've done what seemed my part to do,
An' prayed my duty clear;
I've sung the hymns both slow and quick,
Just as the preacher read;
And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick,
I took the fork an' led.
And now their bold, new-fangled ways,
Is comin' all about;
And I, right in my latter days, Am fairly crowded out!

Today, the preacher, good old dear,
With tears all in his eyes,
Read -- "I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies," --
I always liked that blessed hymn --
I s'pose I al'ays will;
It somehow gratifies my whim,
In good old "Ortonville";
But when that choir got up to sing,
I couldn't catch a word;
They sung the most senseless thing
A body ever heard!

Some worldly chaps was standin' near,
And when I see them grin,
I bid farewell to every fear,
And boldly waded in.
I thought I'd chase their tune along,
An' tried with all my might;
But though my voice is good an' strong,
I couldn't steer it right,
When they was high, then I was low,
An' also contra'wise;
And I too fast, or they too slow,
To "mansions in the skies."

An' after every verse, you know,
They played a little tune;
I didn't understand, an' so
I started in too soon.
I pitched it pretty middlin' high,
I fetched a lusty tone,
But oh, alas! I found that I
Was singing there alone!
They laughed a little, I am told,
But I had done my best;
And not a wave of trouble rolled
Across my peaceful breast.

And sister Brown -- I could but look --
She sits right front of me;
She never was no singin' book,
An' never meant to be;
But then, she's al'ays tried to do
The best she could, she said;
She understood the time right through,
An' kept it with her head;
But when she tried this mornin', oh,
I had to laugh, or cough --
It kep' her head a-bobbin' so,
It e'en a'most came off!

An' Deacon Tubbs, -- he all broke down,
As one might well suppose,
He took one look at Sister Brown,
And meekly scratched his nose.
He looked his hymn book through and through
An' laid it on the seat,
An' then a pensive sigh he drew,
An' looked completely beat.
An' when they took another bout,
He didn't even rise,
But drawed his red bandanner out,
An' wiped his weepin' eyes.

I've been a sister, good an' true,
For five and thirty year;
I've done what seemed my part to do,
And prayed my duty clear;
But Death will stop my voice, I know,
For he is on my track;
And some day, I to church will go
And never more come back.
And when the folks gets up to sing --
When'er that time shall be --
I do not want no patent thing
A-squealin' over me!

Source: The New Peerless Speaker and Complete Program (containing the best and noblest readings and orations that have been presented during the last one hundred years, including dramas, drills and tableaux with old time costumes, also recent patriotic pieces, both pathetic and humorous, as well as selections appropriate for Christmas, New Year's, Easter, Thanksgiving, Old Settlers' gatherings, Labor Days, Arbor Days, etc., etc.; complete for both private and public entertainments, by Emma Griffith Lumm of the American Conservatory of Music and Oratory. Copyright 1901 by L. G. Stahl (now public domain).

Also see The Project Gutenberg EBook of Farm Ballads by Will Carleton