Swelled-up faddah, quell your addah.
Have you got your pants on! Nada!
Catechism is a pain in
The butt, as is it to boys when you come swainin'.

You take hikies with some tykies.
Late at nightie's what you likie.
You re-member after dinner;
You tell them: to reveal this makes you a sinner.

On the ground you've got fellators
And some shake-it palpitators.
There's no head broach here with missies
Boys bestowed with absolution and some kissies.

In the tent it's time to bare ya--
Seminary did prepare ya.
You re-member, now quite hardy;
You're about to organ-ize a lurching padre.

Way off, Rome; the money card'nals
Send back home for all those carnals.
Grown up now, kids come forward to share
Tales 'bout what priests did in their lairs.

Pay off, Rome, for prelates who played house with boys,
Who feel duress and make some noise
And come forward to say:
Though ordained, they were lay.

Queerest faddahs, band o' bruddahs,
We know for whom you had druddahs.
You deployed the "moisture missile,"
Right after you had read from devotions' missal.

You admit it, you've got failings;
Just confess 'em and keep nailing
Kids--doff your shawl, other vestments.
You're the guys who put the "sack" back in sackraments [sic].