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THE CANDIDATE

It was his dream to become a Mason
Though he wasn't sure quite why.
So he made an application,
Then waited months for a reply.

No committee came to pay a call
To meet him and his wife,
No invitation to Mason's Hall;
Nor offer of Advice.

Finally a postcard in the mail,
Said "Come Monday night at six,
And Bring us twenty dollars,
If you want to see our tricks."

He made the solitary journey,
And entered by the door,
But not one hand was offered,
As he slowly crossed the floor.

They fed him beans and hot dogs,
And a piece of apple pie,
Then led him to a little room,
With no explanations why.

The work was done with care and skill,
No one could argue that.
But, the candidate was forgotten,
As they patted themselves on the back.

He came to the lodge hall two more times,
And was raised to the third degree,
That was the last they saw him.
What could the trouble be?

They scratched their heads and wondered,
As again they cried and moaned.
"Our time has all been wasted ! "
"We should have stayed at home."

It seems to me that they've missed the point,
But they need to understand. It's not just how well you do the work,
It's how you treat the man.

R.W. Bro. Alan Heath