Road closed due to kudzu. /
Honest, minister, I couldn’t get through. /
There I was on an uphill climb, /
Fighting Satan and making time. /
When what to astonished eyes should appear — /
A shortcut through underbrush. It was so clear. /
I was certain I had found the way, /
And, for once, I wouldn’t be late today. /
I rounded a curve, started a steep decline /
When all at once, there was this sign. /
“Road closed” it perfunctorily said. /
I squealed to a stop: my hopes were dead. /
For wound tight round that sign /
And growing as if Satan’s Devine /
Was that dreaded kudzu, minister. /
The vine that grows with no resister. /
I sprang from my car, the Lord’s sword in hand, /
And beat back the Devil in a pitched battle grand. /
I’d swing and strike and smite the evil. /
Onward I fought until I spied the steeple. /
Satan sent more of his legion of vines. /
I struggled mightily, but fell behind. /
Finally, my Hail Mary, came to my aid. /
I found something mightier than the holy blade. /
A match and some gasoline were my salvation. /
Fight fire with fire was my divination. /
I heard the leaves curl and writhe in pain. /
Satan would not stop me, not now or again. /
The flames were beautiful, they rose up high. /
It was a wonder that I can’t deny. /
But now, minister, you see, we must flee, /
For those damn flames are following me. /
They’re right behind me, high up to the clouds /
And no hymn will save us, even sung very loud. /
So say, Amen, and get the flock out of here. /
I’ll meet you at the corner bar for a shot and a beer.
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