The Son was shining on AmChurch,/
Shining ever new;/
He did His very best to keep/
Her teachings straight and true--/
And this was odd, because it was,/
Well, after Vatican II./
Satan glowered sulkily,/
Because he thought the Son/
Should leave him to his Rainbow Sash/
When all was said and done--/
"It's very rude of him," he said,/
"To come and spoil my fun!"/
The Bishop and the Diocrat/
Convened their support group;/
They gaily rubbed their hands at each/
New youth to join their troop./
”If more young men would only come,”/
We’d really have a coup!”/
”O winsome lads, come walk with us!”/
The Bishop did beseech./
”A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,/
Liberation’s within reach./
Very soon you’ll know the score;/
Our rites to you we’ll teach.”/
The eldest youth just looked at him,/
But not a word he said:/
A furrow darkened his fair brow,/
He shook his noble head--/
Which meant to say he did not choose/
To leave his Faith stone dead./
But one young man stepped forward, for/
The sound of talk so sweet/
Had stirred his heart’s one true desire:/
To learn at Father’s feet--/
And this was odd, because, you know,/
Everything was so discrete./
Four other boys soon followed him,/
And yet another four;/
And thick and fast they came at last,/
Their teachers to adore--/
Scarce knowing they’d be baptized to/
A lifestyle of hardcore./
The Bishop and the Diocrat/
Walked on a mile or so,/
And then they rested on a rock/
But not the Rock we know./
And all the young men gathered there/
And waited row by row./
”The time has come,” the Bishop said,/
”To talk of many things:/
Of bars--safe sex--and Dignity—/
Of love—on eagle’s wings--/
Why hell’s not really boiling hot,/
And sin no longer stings.”/
"But wait a bit," the young men cried,/
”We don’t know about all that,/
For most of us are innocent;/
We’ve never worn that hat!”/
”No hurry!” said the Diocrat./
And no one smelled a rat./
“Unleavened bread,” the Bishop said,/
”Is what we chiefly need:/
”A cupful of the fruited vine,/
Before we do the deed--/
Now if you’re ready, young men dear,/
Shall we begin our creed?”/
“What creed is this?” the youth inquired,/
For something was askew./
”We’ve just received the Eucharist--/
How ‘bout a prayer or two?”/
”Embodiment is good,” the Bishop said./
”Do you admire the view?”/
“Sexuality’s a sacrament!/
Without it there’s no spice!”/
The Diocrat said nothing but/
”Some say that it’s a vice:/
It’s good that you are so unspoiled--/
The better to entice!”/
“There is no shame,” the Bishop said,/
”To learn our little shtick,/
Innocence will never do/
When you want to turn a trick!”/
The Diocrat said nothing but/
”The air is getting thick!”/
“Oh weep for us,” the Bishop said:/
”For just between us guys,/
The world must never know about/
The rites that we’ve devised.”/
With sobs and tears he sorted out/
The boys that he would prize…/
”O ladies,” said the Diocrat,/
”It’s time to end our fun!/
Shall we resume our normal lives?”/
But answer came there none--/
And this was scarcely odd, because/
They’d corrupted every one./
