A bishop riding on a goose
Said, “modern morals are too loose!”.
The creature said, “honk!”,
Which rhymes with bonk,
As it’s morals where somewhat loose!
A bishop riding on a goose
Said, “modern morals are too loose!”.
The creature said, “honk!”,
Which rhymes with bonk,
As it’s morals where somewhat loose!
I see scaffold on the old church .
Perhaps it is required
To hold bricks which may otherwise slip.
I have passed by graves
In the cold rain
As the great heavens above
Stood empty of love.
This scaffold may momentarily save
The church. But all
Are in thrall to dust.
There was a young lady called Moore
Who all the men adore.
When she fluttered her eye
At a priest named Guy
He thought on the Canon Law!
Each text
Would the bishop vex
Where he to know
So
Let us draw a discreet veil
Over his daughter’s conversation
Lest he turn pale
And the congregation
Find something other than hymns
To sing. Yet I think
That I see the devil wink.
I hear him whisper low
“You know
The bishop also
Has his sins …”.
The vicar spoke
And the devil coughed
In the organ loft
And I awoke
An interesting expression
Is “the world’s oldest profession”.
Many a confession
Has the priest heard.
Mums the word.
He knows the flesh is weak
And will not speak
Of the desire
Burning in peasant and squire,
For discretion
Is his profession.