St. Gura’el — Patron Saint Of Motorists - Poem by Pete Crowther
I have a wondrous tale to tell
About the good Saint Gura’El,
The strangest saint I know by far
Because he owns a motor car.
So gather round and I’ll explain
Just how this saint of God’s domain,
A well-acclaimed evangelist,
Could turn into a motorist.
Now Gura’El’s especial skill
Was finding out what made folk ill
And if their faith was good and strong
He’d work a cure on what was wrong.
So folk with gout and broken bones,
The blind, the sick with awful groans,
The young, the old, all pale and weak,
Came to his church a cure to seek.
Now mostly those who sought a cure
Were humble folk and very poor.
One day, however, a man of wealth
By taxi came in search of health.
A desperate man with a dread disease
He’d only come his wife to please
But in the church he bent his brow
And made the saint a solemn vow:
St. Gura’El, if you heal me,
I’ll give to you my new taxi,
The one in which we came today
It stands outside and it runs OK.
The good old saint just stroked his beard
And just like that the man was cured.
His wife though sometimes rather feckless
Gave to the church her golden necklace
And off they went both full of joy
Leaving Gura’El his brand new toy!
For many a month the taxi stayed
Outside the church becoming frayed.
The church’s priests began to say
They’d like to see it drive away.
A man was hired for the job,
Quite soon they heard the engine throb.
Scarce had the car begun its ride
When suddenly the engine died.
He tried again to move it forward
Instead the car of its own accord
Went in reverse not to be parted
From the church where it had started
So there it stands this very day,
Nothing on earth can move it away.
It’s waiting there for its saintly owner
To drive it away to Arizona
Or anywhere else Saint Gura’El
Might like to go to make folk well.
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