One fine day I started writing something slightly more inviting, Which I hoped to make exciting, though I found the work a chore. I had spent the night carousing, on the Internet a-browsing, Many blogs I found arousing, many writers to explore: Finigan and Father Zuhlsdorf, Blake and Farrow, and yet more: Sometimes even Mundabor. When the last pope came to Britain, Dawkins and his pals had kittens, But a famous blog was written - you'll have heard of it, I'm sure. Facing widespread insurrection, Donnelly tried pope-protection, Holding up to wide inspection all the danger at the door: ACTA's clowns, Küng, Tina Beattie; and the Tablet - what a bore! Wickedness one can't ignore.
At this point you may be inexplicably thinking about ravens.
Thus in hope I went a-seekin' for the blog of Nick the Deacon, Those who wished our faith to weaken shuddered when they heard him roar. But to my great consternation, and indeed severe frustration, There'd been an enforced cessation of the work I'd seen before. Orders from on high had come in, orders Nick could not ignore - Someone sticking in his oar. Now the Bishop of Lancaster was to blame for this disaster For, said he, "I am the Master. You will write your blog no more. Pray, reflect, but do be wary - though my ban is voluntary, Woe to you if you're contrary - don't resist, or I'll get sore. Those who disobey my orders end up lying on the floor, Sometimes weltering in gore."
Do you know there's a deacon under the table, Bishop?
From outside there came a knocking, and a sound of laughter mocking, Horrid sounds, aggressive, shocking - but I opened wide the door. Now, that was a foolish gamble - through the door stepped Bishop Campbell, And the man began to ramble - as he stood upon my floor. "Now the pope is unprotected, is it your fault, Monsignor?" "I deny it!" - thus he swore. When our bishops are unwilling to give heretics a grilling, Such indifference is chilling - for there's blasphemy galore! Thus the bishop's pride I tested, for politely I requested, "Now that Deacon Nick has rested, will you now his blog restore? When can simple truth be published as it was in days of yore?" Quoth the bishop, "Nevermore."
After 3 months of prayer and reflection, the deacon looks the worse for wear.