Sorrowfully sitting in his cell
Is new inmate ex-Cardinal Pell,
Publicly his innocence he still professes,
Though to his God he quietly confesses,
‘Lord, it was only the occasional lap lapse;
Lord, hoping for celibacy is all well and good
But there’s little or nun of that in the priesthood.’
But from above, if He heard
There’s not been one little word,
He would have thought one-
The Father or His blessed son-
Or that ethereal wraith-
Would speak to a man of faith,
But yet, not one uplifting sound;
How loud Gods silence doth resound.
Now that Mr Pell has been solitarily confined
He has time to, unmolested, scour his mind,
One day is an eternity in this Hellish place,
Though being banged up in solitary is his saving grace,
George has gone from shooting the papal bull
To hearing a cardinals word is not indisputable,
And what he saw as an innocent Church affair
Is turning into his worst unfrocking nightmare.
Ex-Monkee Peter Tork has gone and accompanied the Grim Reaper,
He’s hoping he can wangle an opening with St. Peter the Gatekeeper,
For old bandmates Dolenz and Nesmith this is a sad day,
Out on the unending Nostalgia Tour, still plugging away,
No chance of a trio now Pete’s on the last train to Clarkesville;
Now there’s only Micky and Mike left behind to half fill the bill.
(This came out a lot snarkier than intended, I don’t know why. Perhaps I’m a bit over too many groups/parts of groups/second cousins twice removed of groups still on the gravy train. (A sad day for Pete and fun music, in truth.)
Ann Coulter says we have an idiot for a President,
Not many, if any Liberals knew she could be so prescient,
Quite an outre thing to say by the far too Right Ms. Coulter,
They may be forever foes but, for today, few Left can fault her.
The hard harsh word came from on high, from the Pope,
Gods good servant McCarrick had lost his last hope,
The Pope didn’t hear his prayers or poor innocent pleas;
That pained him more than his poor old worn out knees.
Heaven knows, at 88 Theodore can ill-afford
To get unforgivably offside with his good Lord.
All those abuses of power, the secrets Ted held within
Now lay uncovered, obvious as Hell and ugly as sin,
The long serving Cardinal faces a humiliating defrocking,
No blessings for Ted in next year’s Vatican Christmas stocking.
At least when he’s loudly complaining in Purgatory
Many many priests will sympathise with his story.
Donald is off on his latest low-down undertaking,
He needs money to fix a crisis, of his own making,
The Army of law’n’order fans of his border wall
Will now see Don pillaging Peter to pay Paul.
Building walls up was easy to say in an election run
But getting Mexico to pay is easier said that done,
He keeps calling about the millions of dollars they owe,
Not one ‘Hola’ has he got from the President of Mexico.
It matters not to Don that the funds are misappropriated
Or that real Democracy has been truly desecrated,
What do you expect when the megalomaniac you elect
Injudiciously, sadly, madly must get his vanity project?
A cameraman was roughed up at the Trump rally today,
An overly-enthusiastic MAGA cap wearer got carried away,
The crowd bayed their approval, after push came to shove
And Donald beamed innocently down from the dais above.
The dense crowd now had to choose
How to deal with witnessing fake news;
The Right-minded find the solution lies
With closing the mind and the eyes.
When Fox and Dons words are the only one’s worth heeding
And the National Enquirer(!) is the only paper worth reading
The truth is simply as Pecker, Bannon and Don perceive it,
And if that sounds dumb and crass, you better believe it.