Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Inside the church he did his sum,
the wine, in flasks, a large caraffe,
but treponema pallidum
would soon have others get their laugh.
No cure could be by quacks procured
and Salvarsan would eat your brain,
so many clergy had endured
this plague before they'd gone insane.
Yes, altarboys and girls of skill
who'd flaunt their wares on lonely nights
a man of God, through strength of will
for privacy turns out all lights.
As if this could erase the sin;
perhaps it could, though please explain
who would, with a satanic grin
send pestilence to strike you, Cain.