The Priest

The Priest

By

James Bredin

I hear you’re a priest now and you’ve said your first mass,
And they won’t let you marry that beautiful young lass,
Your celibate lifestyle does not seem normal to me,
No wife, no girlfriend among some as queer as could be.

Because these days, things are not like they were long ago,
When priests walked on water on a very high plateau,
Something happened somehow somewhere along the way,
When people read the percentage of priests who were gay.

When pedophile cases hit the front page every day,
And the Church paid their defence every step of the way,
Of course I know it’s not you but I’m not so sure,
The Pope didn’t fire them all so they stay obscure.

If you had a wife and kids, we might be more level,
Less priestly homosexual consort with the devil,
I would hate being preached to by a pedophile type,
Dressed up in white vestments giving me the hype.

I have this quandary about going to confession,
To someone I don’t know, pardon the expression,
No wife, no kids, in a peculiar celibate lifestyle,
Could be a pedophile pretending all the while.

Sunday, March 5, 2006