lirik lagu mike absalom - ecclesiastical cheesecake walk
when mrs. fanshaw fantasized things often got romanticized
there was, for those who liked the rock cake, no bolder cook
by grave mistake she put cement dust in the spice
and fanshaw said “it’s very nice”
and ground his t~~th and coughed and sighed and very soon thereafter died
now though england’s a pagan land some citizens still make a stand
while fanshaw’s faith was lapsed r.c. his wife was christmas c. of e
yet down the years she had forgot what an ~rs~ he was
and what funerary pomps were meet and which were poison for her sleep
a representative of rome was summoned quickly to the home
to explain the catholic rights and wrongs and ways and mays and mights
father ignatious twenty~nine not only godly but divine
within minutes of the time he met her she found love at first sight in a biretta
unchecked by ultramontane guilt her love ran wild and at full tilt
from that day forth she planned full spate to swallow up this celibate
the very night her spouse chose to knock off in, she danced with glee upon his coffin
and by his box was not a dirge she sang but praises for the clergy
with an ardour mostly found in latins mrs. f. turned up at mass and matins
and from the second row of pews tried to communicate her views
rattling her rosary in her best clothes and hosiery
with sad unconsummated sighs mrs. f. unfrocked him with her eyes
her fantasies began to grow. she thought she’d die she loved him so
what a man so strong and chaste. what a chest, oh what a waste
if he could only leave his pedestal and clasp her close or even better still
inflamed with l~st and satyriasis, chase her naked ’round the diocese
but mrs. fanshaw’s guile and gaiety, though it might have laid the laity
sometimes coy, sometimes salacious, never did ignite ignatious
her passion always animated blew up one sunday when he stated
“today i have this news to dish up. i’m leaving to become a bishop”
mrs. fanshaw blanched. mrs. fanshaw paled
mrs. fanshaw cried. mrs. fanshaw wailed
“my love won’t die. my love won’t cease. how can he leave the diocese?”
she didn’t even get a kick from thinking of his bisho~p~rick
“a fallacy,” she said “that’s it,” and threw a most unpleasant fit
they saw her raise her head and shake it. no truth had ever seemed so naked
since adam’s first defoliation, no buddha nor other holiation
could have harmed the rage that boiled up in her breast now she was foiled
voicing vulgar unromanticals she kicked him soundly in the canticles
the congregation rose in wrath to avenge this insult to the cloth
not lacking for a precedent, to burn her at the stake they went
hymn books and psalters soon caught fire
they threw her screaming on the pyre
and she remained, though quickly slaked, ever afterwards half~baked
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