I recently read Saints and Sinods by S. J. Forrest, which is a collection of mildly amusing poems, like this:
Our reverend incumbent is ridiculously shy,
On meeting his parishioners he seems to petrify,
But once he's in the pulpit he becomes a learned Don,
And rambles on and on and on and on and on and on.
And this one particularly appealed to me:
We cannot trust our clergyman,
The reason must be said:
Although he's quite a pleasant chap,
He still remains unwed!
His romanizing practices
We've learned to tolerate,
If only he would not attempt
To ape the celibate.
And finally, the following is a parody of Lewis Carroll's You are Old Father William, which in turn is a parody of Richard Southey's The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them:
"You are old Father Oblong," the young curate said,
"And it's time that you learned to do better;
Yet you're wearing that old-fashioned hat on your head,
Don't you think you should ban the biretta?"
"You're a youth," said the priest, "and you've plenty of hair.
An all too luxuriant crop.
But when you grow ancient and feel the cold air,
You'll be glad of a lid on the top!"
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