Cosmetic Liturgy
I am a bald old reverend
Think women diabolical –
May God, whose mercies never end,
Restore my fat-head's follicle.
Let women serve my dish up, quick,
Be virtuous or virgins;
My face looks glum. A bishopric?
Bring me cosmetic surgeons.
What vanity of vanities!
What, women in a mitre?
Just think of their inanities,
And make my bottom tighter.
A priest's a man, so says The Book,
And so say all adherents.
Women – see this fancy crook –
Care only for appearance.
Leave women to look beautiful,
And curse this role reversal:
For men are merely dutiful,
Their cassocks white as Persil.
