There was a vicar from Fife
Who never took a wife
Instead he toyed
With a choir boy
And buggered him up for life

There was a vicar from Crewe
Whose congregation were few
To make amends he brought in his hens
And they all lined up on a pew

Then he compiled an avian choir
(For the singing voice of the hens was dire
And the only song the cockerel knew
Was ****-a-doodle-do)

The church fell silent as we heard
The Lord is my Shepherd from the minor bird
The vicar invited us to pray
And we got the Lords Prayer from the African grey

There followed a rendition of psalm thirty four
Performed without fault from the tenor macaw
The parakeets squawked and scratched their fleas
As they jumped up and down on the ***** keys

The vicar was thrilled it was going so well
The geese gave a honk as they pulled on the bell
But then there appeared right at the back
An evil sparrowhawk poised to attack

Calamity reigned inside the church
The African grey fell off his perch
The first to escape was the tenor macaw
As fast as he could through the open door

The chickens shrieked and went home in a flap
The minor bird had a heart attack
The geese walked away back to their pen
And the church fell silent once again

There is a vicar from Chelsea
Who alas is not very wealthy
Often he dines on communion wine
And curried bat from the belfry

He lights a lot of incense
To hide his flatulence
He gets a bit high
Perhaps that is why
His sermons never make sense



--The vicar gets his knickers in a twist--

The old church roof had seen better days
The pressing need was a serious fund-raise
So the vicar abseiled down the tower
As the village watched by the graves and flowers

With a flurry his cassock flew up in the air
Shocking pink he wore under there
Flapping around it covered his face
As he dangled there in embarrassed disgrace

Someone called the fire brigade
A turntable ladder came to his aid
When at last they got him down
Humbled and grateful he kissed the ground