The Bishop of Rome
Quite far shuffled from home,
Where the dear man says Agnus Deis.
Gave well-chosen words
To encouraging herds
Who were shy and not rowdy all days.

From Rome did he range.
There were cheers; 'twas no anti-Pope stay.
They welcomed his words,
All those stadium herds,
And the guy did not too loudly bray.

His vestments were white, almost heavenly bright;
He delighted fans, as do rock stars.
And their voices were raised, as their faith they praised. . .
"Gloria in excelsis," 8 bars.

From Rome did he range.
He had veered from his angry-Pope ways;
So seldom were heard
Those old Doctrinal words,
And the guy did not too loudly bray.

He lives in a land
Where people slap their hand
Against their forehead and then scream.
To a Mafia don, folks kiss his ring and fawn--
These two camps are quite sim'lar, it seems.

So don't think that it's strange
When from Rome he will range
To come here for an amblin'-Pope stay.
'twas swell fun; folks heard,
Even way down by third
Base, the guy; no one was out; all'd pray.