'Twas in the year twenty-fifteen That strange events in Scotland were seen: The Nationalists' hopes began to burgeon Because of a bonnie wee lass called Sturgeon, Who was bound to do well in the General Election Because of a mood of disaffection.
The Catholic bishops were all very fine, Except perhaps for Keith O'Brien. Of the rest I would mention especially Philip Tartaglia and Leo Cushley. Devine was divine, and as for Toal, There was quite a high chance of saving his soul.
Trouble ahead: Leo Cushley makes a new friend.
But 'tis often thought that Catholics Should be careful when dabbling in politics. Bishops, you may write your flock a note But don't tell 'em exactly how to vote. When making our choice most think it better To ignore the tedious "Bishops' Letter".
Alas! The bishops had been gammoned By Nicola Sturgeon and Alex Salmond. They fell into a hopeless passion, And expressed themselves after this fashion: "She may have got enormous feet, But her voice is low and sweet - Aye, she's a' the world to me; And for bonnie leftie Nicky I'd lay me doon and dee!"
Bonnie Leftie Nicky.
I must now conclude my lay, And tell the world what many men say. Bishops are blessed, and they know how to pray, But in Scotland, as in England, they Sometimes don't take care what they say. Respectfully, I warn the episcopal classes: "Your conduct sometimes rather crass is. Worship God, and say your Masses, But don't trust any political lasses, Or people will say you're a bunch of asses!"
Wiser than some bishops.