Dei ta Deo

“Gah!” she cried, kicking the hubcap.
Her car had broken down seven miles from town, in the rain. And it was getting dark.
She perched on the damp hood, not caring she was wet. Why did her car have to break down now? She had no bike to ride back to town. It was pouring. And the road was starting to get muddy.
Well, a voice inside her said, it could be worse.
“Yeah, it could,” she thought.
You got a fine, healthy pair of legs. The air’s pretty nice tonight. You don’t have to go anywhere in the morning. You can carry all you need in your bag. And you’ve been wanting to dump this car anyway.
“Yeah. Yeah, I can walk.”
It was decided.
She loaded all her stuff into her backpack, scribbled a note about her car (“Free to good home, needs lot of TLC ”), and began down the street, singing a folksong her friend had taught her:
Dei ta Deo, Baba, Baba re re
Ahwonk foank pey, faho, faho
Alolayoh, abolayoh,
Awahee Jesu Logo!

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