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Old father O'Malley was strolling through the church grounds one sunny summer evening, when he came upon a little frog sitting by a tree. 'My Lord,' he said picking it up: 'you're the saddest, most forlorn-looking frog I've ever seen. I only wish you could speak, so that you might tell me your troubles.'

The frog replied, 'Actually, I can. You see, I was once a choirboy in this very parish. One day I offended a passing gypsy, and she put a curse on me that turned me into a talking frog.'

'Incredible!' said Father O'Malley. 'Is there anything I might do to help you?'

'Actually yes , there is. The gypsy said that if I can find somebody to take me home and sleep in their bed, the curse will be lifted and I'll be back to normal.'

'Well,' said Father O'Malley, 'the Good Lord teaches us to be charitable. I think I can manage that.'

So Father O'Malley picked up the little frog and put it in his pocket. That night he placed it gently on the pillow beside him and drifted off into a long, dreamy sleep. When he awoke the next morning, the frog had turned back into a choirboy, just as it had said it would.

'And that, Your Honor, is the case for the defense...'
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