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!
There Was A Young Lady Called Moore
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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.