As your Pope I deeply and profoundly regret
If my slap-happy action caused the lady upset.
But to my flock all I ask is to patiently stand
And let your pontiff extend his blessed hand.
Kindly wait for your trembling hand to be taken,
To grab it in a death-grip will surely leave me shaken.
Remember, we don’t press the flesh in the Vatican,
Your man of God is frail and fractious at eighty-one.
To cling to His Eminence’s hand may be no mortal sin
But my patience and arthritic bones are now wafer thin.
So ma’am, forgive me, I’ll be eternally in your debt,
I’m only human, with no certainty of a sainthood yet.