Father O'Fondle comes to town
Hoping that your pants are down
What's your sport, me lad, says he
Can you sit upon me knee
(I have sport enow for thee!)
Let me look upon your dangle
Try Confession from THIS angle
What I beat is not a drum
Who put the 'cum' in 'Vobiscum'?
(Which of you dare call me 'scum'?)
Bishop, Bishop, though I'm lacking
I know you will send me packing
To another parish bright
Where I'm sure I'll do all right
I'll bring 'God' to them and theirs
And they'll remember in their prayers
In the night when dreams are wet
They will see me smiling yet
Holding out God's helping hand-
There's a sweet and sacred band!
Till Hell turns to ice and freezes
You'll make Love to me-and Jesus
I'll apply the priestly arts
To your troubled private parts
Here, my lad, ‘s a welcome solace
Let me touch your throbbing phallus
Hear the Sacred Choir thrumming
As I prepare my Second Coming!
Father O'Fondle, troubled man
Needing love, and under ban
In such desire for the Son,
Would I have done as you have done?