So the man in rags
Met the priest with bags
One haggled and begged
One argued and frowned
The one in rags
Didn’t stop
Didn’t give up
Something he wanted
Out of the preacher of God
But the preacher of God denied
And turned as red
As Satan’s own flame
The advocate of the church
Was followed hither and thither
By the most determined
And ambitious hobo
One could ever think of
Cursed he did
In the name of the Almighty
Yet the priest remained true to
itself
And out of all the things
He said and summoned
No saint nor hell nor devil
Was ever mentioned
The hobo made rituals
Kissed the filthy floor of the old
tram
Swore allegiance
And eternal dedication
For the monastery up the hill
Prayed and prayed and prayed
Yet nothing came
He left the priest
And told him
He drank the wrong beer