Shall I tell you a story,
That you'll barely believe?
I wouldn't either,
Had it not happened to me.
One day I was thirsty,
So I carried down the hill
A big clay pot to gather
Water from the well.
But when I got to the spot
What trouble did I see?
A man sitting there
As calmly as can be.
Who was this strange guy?
He wasn't from my town.
I'd lived here all my life,
And I'd not seen him around.
He asked me for a drink,
And I thought, "Okay, why not."
So I drew some from the well
And he drank up what I got.
He thanked me afterwards,
So, I asked him, "How come you
Asked from a Samaritan
A drink, when you're a Jew?"
He sighed a weary sigh,
And told me, "I'm just here to rest.
I do not mean you harm,
The truth is that you're blessed.
If you knew the Gift of God
And who you're speaking to
You'd ask for living water
Instead of me asking from you."
I laughed. "You can't draw water,
You don't even have a pot.
Do you know how deep this well is?
Can you reach it? I think not!
And 'living water.' What is that?
I don't like being mocked.
Great-grandpa Jacob dug this well,
For watering his flock."
He said, "You think this water
Is what's keeping you alive,
And yet all of your ancestors
Who drank it still have died.
But soon I'll give you water,
That you'll know upon my life,
Makes you never thirst again
And gives you eternal life."
His answer could seem arrogant,
You'd think that I'd be mad.
I wasn't though, because I sensed
That he was deeply sad.
I thought he might be daft,
And I pitied the guy too.
So I chuckled and I asked him,
"Can I have that drink from you?
For if you give me some of it
I'll never need again
To draw more water from this well
With life that never ends!"
I waited then, with bated breath
To see what he would do.
Instead he said, "Will you please bring
Your husband here with you?
It's necessary that he's here,
So he can have some too."
Boy, did I feel called out,
For it was clear, he knew.
"I have no husband," I told him.
He said to me, "I know
You've had five different husbands and
Divorced them long ago.
And though the man you live with
Won't claim you as his wife,
Don't be ashamed. Your heart is pure.
You didn't tell me lies."
I must have stood with jaw agape.
For how could he have known?
I don't tell folks my history --
My business is my own.
"I see that you're a prophet, sir,
But are you telling me
I must go to Jerusalem?
And leave my family?"
"No, ma'am," he said, "Don't leave your sons.
Stay with your family.
The time will come, and it is here,
When you will worship me,
Not inside Jerusalem,
Or on your mountainsides,
Or anywhere that you can see.
In Spirit, God resides."
I understood, from that point on
The truth. He was Our King.
The one foretold by Moses
Who would tell us everything.
We welcomed him to stay with us,
But after just two days
He left with his disciples
To travel south a-ways.
He went back to Jerusalem,
For that was his birthplace.
I learned that's where he died,
But rose again after three days.
So I know he told the truth,
This thirsty Nazarene,
For I became his follower when
I was baptized Photine.
