An old farmer went to the city one weekend and attended the big city church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was. â€œWell,â€ said the farmer.â€It was good. They did something different, however. They sang praise choruses instead of hymns.â€
â€œPraise choruses?â€ asked the wife. â€œWhat are those?â€
â€œOh, they’re okay. They’re sort of like hymns, only different,â€ said the farmer.
â€œWell, what’s the difference?â€ asked the wife.
The farmer said, â€œWell itâ€™s like this . . . if I were to say to you, â€˜Martha, the cows are in the corn,â€™ well that would be a hymn. If, on the other hand, I were to say to you, â€˜Martha, Martha, Martha, Oh, Martha, MARTHA, MARTHA, the cows, the big cows, the brown cows, the black cows, the white cows, the black and white cows, the COWS, COWS, COWS are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn, in the CORN, CORN, CORN, COOOOORRRRRNNNNN.â€™ Then, if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times, well that would be a praise chorus.â€
As luck would have it, the exact same Sunday a young, new Christian from the city church attended the small town church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was. â€œWell,â€ said the young man, â€œIt was good. They did something different, however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs.â€
â€œHymns?â€ asked the wife. â€œWhat are those?â€
â€œTheyâ€™re okay. Theyâ€™re sort of like regular songs, only different,â€ said the young man.
â€œWell, whatâ€™s the difference?â€ asked the wife.
The young man said, â€œWell itâ€™s like this Â¦ If I were to say to you, â€˜Martha, the cows are in the corn,â€™ well that would be a regular song. If on the other hand, I were to say to you,
Oh Martha, dear Martha, hear thou my cry
Inclinest thine ear to the words of my mouth.
Turn thou thy whole wondrous ear by and by
To the righteous, glorious truth.
For the way of the animals who can explain
There in their heads is no shadow of sense,
Hearkenest they in Godâ€™s sun or his rain
Unless from the mild, tempting corn they are fenced.
Yea those cows in glad bovine, rebellious delight,
Have broke free their shackles, their warm pens eschewed.
Then goaded by minions of darkness and night
They all my mild Chilliwack sweet corn chewed.
So look to that bright shining day by and by,
Where all foul corruptions of earth are reborn.
Where no vicious animal makes my soul cry
And I no longer see those foul cows in the corn.
Then, if I were to do only verses one, three and four, and change keys on the last verse, well that would be a hymn.
Thanks to James for this gem.
11 thoughts on “Jokes”
Awesome. That’s the hardest I’ve laughed in a while. 😀
Of course, that’s the big difference between this joke and the jokes told from fundy pulpits–this one is funny.
Has anyone else experienced this? Most fundy pastors I’ve heard tell the same jokes over and over and over and always gets the same hearty laughter. The most bizarre follows votes during interminable business meetings–“All in favor, say ‘Amen.’ And all opposed by saying ‘No.'” There is then a pause, followed by, “And there are none!” which, for some reason, elicits laughter. Huh?
I’ve decided that fundies either don’t care or have poor memories. That’s why they laugh at the same, tired old jokes and–more tellingly–don’t notice when Frank Garlock changes the lyrics to the hymns they’ve been singing for forty years.
Yeah, I’ve sorta noticed that. I found it annoying more on the level of inside jokes. In which the fundy pastor tells some inside joke that only the “in-touch” or consistent member would understand. I always felt bad for the visitors that just may happen to be there, whom I imagine felt completely and utterly confused.
This is great! Except it would be verses 1, 2 and 4. Good fundies always leave out the third verse.
I had a secretary who said that sometimes she felt as neglected as the third stanza in hymn.
As to the jokes from fundy pastors, my sons and I simply number them. As in “#34!” Followed by laughter.
That is priceless!
You would think that if they were consistent, fundies would sing verses 1 and 3 since they only like beats 1 and 3. Go figure.
That was great.
The problem with Fundamentalist jokes is that they end up in the pulpit.
Once I saw this guy on a bridge about to jump. I said, “Don’t do it!”
He said, “Nobody loves me.”
I said, “God loves you. Do you believe in God?”
He said, “Yes.”
I said, “Are you a Christian or a Jew?”
He said, “A Christian.”
I said, “Me, too! Protestant or Catholic?”
He said, “Protestant.”
I said, “Me, too! What franchise?”
He said, “Baptist.”
I said, “Me, too! Northern Baptist or Southern Baptist?”
He said, “Northern Baptist.”
I said, “Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist or Northern Liberal Baptist?”
He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist.”
I said, “Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region, or Northern Conservative Baptist Eastern Region?”
He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region.”
I said, “Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879, or Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?”
He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912.”
I said, “Die, heretic!” And I pushed him over.
Voted 44th funniest joke of all time in “The 75 Funniest Jokes of All Time” in GQ magazine (June 1999)
I have had this converstaion with so many closed-minded fundies. They always say that if you take the words away from “contemporary” music that it sounds just like rock and roll. I always tell them if you take the words out of southern gospel that it sounds like music you would hear in a honky tonk. I have found that this leaves most of them speechless. Not convinced or changed just quiet. Either way they shut up!