From the Church of the Blessed Saint Joan,
There was heard most distinctly a moan,
Which, to judge from the pitch,
Meant some blasphemous bitch
Would have plenty for which to atone!
Chosen
Said poor Mary, “It’s dubious honour,
This being the holy madonna:
What sort of a life
For a good Jewish wife,
To have God-knows-whose child thrust upon her!”
Sabbath stroll
On a Sunday in March, Bishop Fry
No-one knows but the Lord perhaps, why,
Was observed in the Strand
With his dick in his hand,
Mumbling “What a good fellow am I!”
Flesh
A young priest, his vows woefully fresh,
Once succombed to the sin of the flesh,
When there came to confess
A young girl in short dress,
Frilly knickers and stockings of mesh.
Vatican roulette
Though the Vatican’s way is expedient,
Lust is the missing ingredient:
Sex by appointment’s
A sad disappointment
For those who’ve been all month obedient.
Oh brother!
A young fellow, enrolled in Divinity,
Talks about God and infinity,
Late, though, at night
He seeks carnal delight;
A great sin and, what’s more, consanguinity!
Clerical error
A degenerate fellow called Derek,
Of morals had hardly a sceric.
While only a boy,
He’d been taught of the joy
Of the sins of the flesh, by a cleric.
Divine comedy
A young catholic girl grew depressed,
Despite prayer, and the faith she professed,
For she had carnal thoughts,
And of such depraved sorts,
And they made her feel hot and distressed.
She began to feel she was possessed,
She had dreams about rape and incest,
And she woke in the night,
Flushed with guilt and delight,
By the things with which she was obsessed.
She knew well what the church teachings stressed,
About temptations sent as a test,
But the things that she dreamed
And her fantasies seemed
To be worse than what might be confessed!
Though a pure heart beat in her breast,
Her breasts ached to be kissed and caressed!
To her mortification,
She found masturbation
At least gave relief and and some rest.
In the mirror she saw, when undressed,
She’d been quite undeniably blessed,
With a bosom and thighs
Of such smoothness and size,
She imagined men might be impressed!
So perhaps it was God’s little jest,
Having charms to compare with the best,
And all gone to such waste,
If she might never taste
Of the pleasures of which she just guessed!
Lay
A priest’s thoughts should revolve round the deity.
Church life, however, lacks gaity.
Many, I hear,
And more too, I fear,
Share secular joys with the laity.
Vocational guidance
Said Kathleen, in the darkened confessional,
“God forgive me! My needs are obsessional!
Said the Father, “My child,
When the flesh runs thus wild,
Give some thought to becoming professional.”