Remember the Reverend Hugby Jones,
The preacher so full of love,
That he turned his Sunday sermons
Into sessions filled with hugs?
Well, that's how he built his reputation,
'Cuz his sermons weren't that hot,
Folks mainly flocked to Hugby's church,
For the wondrous hugs they got.
Then when Hugby died and went to heaven,
To collect his just reward,
His widow planted plants for him,
At his gravesite, where she mourned.
Faithfully she tended them,
With her own special T L C,
And everybody wondered
What those plants would grow to be.
Well, as they began to grow,
Folks were astonished and amazed,
For strawberries sprung up and out,
And thrived on Hugby's grave.
Folks were aghast, but did not ask
Why the widow of Hugby Jones
Chose strawberry plants to celebrate
The Reverend's going home.
But therein lay the secret
Of the Reverend Hugby's hugs,
Which heretofore most folks had thought
Came directly from above.
But the true source of Hugby's talent,
Which indirectly did come from the Lord,
Was the strawberries he indulged in,
Vital to his daily board.
The more berries that he ate,
The sweeter Hugby was,
And the sweeter he became,
The sweeter Hugby's hugs.
While the congregation praised the Lord,
The good reverend felt ashamed,
For he knew it was the strawberries
That gave him his claim to fame.
No one knew his secret,
Except the Lord and Hugby's spouse,
But neither one would squeal on him,
Each quiet as a mouse.
Well, then after Hugby died,
His secret was revealed,
By the luscious, red, ripe strawberries,
Hugby's grave began to yield.
Everyone who ate some
Commenced hugging one another,
Even long-time feuding neighbors
Got the urge to hug each other.
The whole town took up hugging
Everyone they met,
And cats and dog and gerbils
Even tried to hug their Vets.
Travelers at the hotel,
With suitcases and grips,
Found hugs were more acceptable
Than the usual two buck tip.
The town went hugging-crazy,
Even the schools gave hugs for grades,
The students vied with one another,
And one hug was equal to four A's.
The town folks built a statue
Of the Reverend Hugby in the Square,
His arms outstretched in hug-position,
So folks could pose for photos there.
They changed the name of their small town
And all the citizens hugged each other,
When the mayor signed the decree.
All because of Hugby's berries,
Hugs became a way of life,
When the Lord looked down upon the town,
He hugged Hugby with delight.
"Job well done," the good Lord said
As He sipped on strawberry wine,
The angels hugged each other then,
And Hugby felt divine!
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright April 2004