The Twenty-first century “Catholic” Anglican
You’ll only find a trace of heresy in all that I will teach you.
The clergyman across the town has vestments so obtrusive,
My cassock-alb with rainbows is really all inclusive.
My surplice is embroidered with only a suggestion
Of the gin and lace that speaks of orientation.
My liturgy is up-to-date with all pronouns corrected
I teach the children in Sunday School the Dutch Catechism,
Explaining how there is no such thing as heresy or schism.
The truths of Vatican Two I bate not one iota.
But have yet to meet marriage tribunal quota.
The Bishop has been active in parochial assessing.
The music we perform at Mass is clearly gender neutral.
We have assorted voices with counter-tenors neutered.
Two flutes, a fiddle and a harp assist them in the gallery.
The organist left years ago, and so we save his salary.
Consisting of ten people who sing in various positions,
Depending on how they identify their Sunday morning choices
Mother Earth we extol in fervid peroration;
The Gia Sisters support our congregation.
And, though I say I’m “Catholic,” I’m really Ang-li-can