Some nights you'll see a papal moon
Shinin' out from the Holy See,
And these night the nuns get aggrieved
And heave their rosaries.

But they never see the brown eye,
For that would be effrontery,
Though it's the back not front you see--
The pontiff's levity.

Their mouths are mum.
In a mocking-monk charade,
Trappists "rap": "Bum
Of prelates, not displayed,
Why is Benny's arrayed?"

It's a bare bum briefly unfurled;
It shone over the balcony.
Quick as it appeared, it did leave. . .
Can't believe what you see.