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I used to rush To church each week With my venal sins to expel Just a good Little Catholic boy Trying hard to stay out of Hell |
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But, my efforts At piety Were a real sacramental mess Because I rushed To church each week With nothing at all to confess |
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So we'd sit there The priest and I Fulfilling our sacred duties I'd make up things He'd fall asleep It just wasn't very pretty |
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I thought to be A good Catholic boy I had to make full confession Even if against The Lord I'd Committed no transgression |
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The only sin I'd committed Which might require absolution Was making up Venal sins to Lie about during confession |
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At last the priest Had had enough Of my absence of moral strife He woke up And drew the curtain And told me to "Get a life!" |
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That's when you taught Me how to sin My venal passions you enflamed For the first time I really knew What makes the impure so ashamed |
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Now when I rush To church each week To recapture my innocence I have real sins I must confess Which makes all of the difference |
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Even the priest Has come to life He now sits at rapt attention He clears his throat And "oohs" and "ahs" At each new sin that I mention |
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Maybe he wants To swap places So he can live stories I tell That could well be The only way I can avoid going to Hell |
