And Jesus told a story
To teach us how to pray
The one about the unjust judge
Whose favourite word was “Nay!”
A widow came to call on him,
She had a solid case
But found it hard to track him down
And meet him face to face.
“My rights are being trampled on!”
This lady cried in vain.
He shoved her out
And so next day
The widow came again.
“My rights are being trampled on!”
She cried into his ear,
But still the judge
Refused to budge
And hoped she’d disappear.
The widow came back every day,
The judge was growing weary,
His face was pale, his hands were weak,
His eyes were red and bleary.
“My rights are being trampled on!”
It rattled in his brain
He threw her out, he slammed the door
The widow came again.
Until, one day, he’d had enough,
“This wench will drive me mad!”
“Alright,” he said, “Who’s done you wrong?
I’ll prosecute the cad.”
And so, said Jesus, have no fear,
Though things may seem depressing
And evil men may rule the roost
And prosper by transgressing,
Remember how this widow fought
The people who oppressed her
And in your own life never cease
To be a bold protester.
Good will eventually prevail
So try to keep your chin up,
For when you’re in the deepest depths
There’ll be a rope to shin up.