The Bishop's Conference

Come gather all ye clergy, come from far and near,
Come ye and stand in conference a bollocking to hear,
For I am told you’re antics are causing grave concern,
You’re shagging your parishioners for which in hell you’ll burn.

The clergy gathered solemnly the bishop to attend,
For if he did insist on it their ways they’d have to mend,
They stood in semi circle the bishop sat before,
His little page beside him roared “Shut that fuckin’ door!”

The door slammed shut and silence fell stern looks were all about,
The bishop stood up suddenly and gave a mighty shout,
You pack of twats! You snivelling curs, a sinful wrong you’re doing,
You’re screwing everything that walks you’re leading us to ruin,

The bill for the communion wine is getting out of hand,
You’re the biggest pack of drunken gits in all of Eng-er-land,
We’ve sixteen ‘virgins’ pregnant age twelve to twenty two,
And choir boys are being bonked now what am I to do?

The collection plates are empty for the money you purloin,
“Not me!” cried one indignantly, bish kneed him in the groin,
“Up your fuckin’ cassock, speak when you’re spoken to,
You’re rampant thieving drunken shits, a pox on all of you.”

“You’ll have to go without sex for now and all your lives,
If things get really desperate you could always screw your wives,
They looked around in great despair, their pleasures at an end,
Not one of them now dared to speak the bishop to offend,

Then spake the little page boy so slim and fair of face,
I think I have an answer will you hear me now your grace?
Fifty pounds you fine them for every boy they screw,
And a thousand quid for every kid they father that should do,

Then perhaps you’ll pay me when my buttocks next you cleave,
And for god’s buy some tissues don’t wipe it on my sleeve
The red faced bishop bade him hush, of this he need not speak,
And swore he’d pay him handsomely (At least three times a week)

At last then it was all agreed that every man should pay,
For every bonk or blow job be he straight or be he gay,
It was voted on most fairly, in order of their rank,
Ten pounds for a blow job and a fiver for a wank.

Church coffers were soon bulging as the cash came rolling in,
With every parson in the land a-paying for his sin,
I know you never go there when the parson rings his bell,
But at least you know the reason now why the church is rich as hell!