This is me, Eccles

This is me, Eccles
This is me, Eccles

Monday, 19 February 2018

Pope Francis has got a little list

It was time that someone set the Pope Francis book of insults to music, and it will now form part of Gilbert and Sullivan's latest opera, The Dictator, subtitled The Fourteenth Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops.

Pope singing a song

Take it away, Holy Father!

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I've got a little list – I've got a little list
Of the Catholics that we are trying to drive underground,
And who never would be missed – who never would be missed!

There's the creed-reciting parrot-Christians meaning what they say –
The fomenter of coprophagia - he has had his day –
The self-absorbed Promethean neo-Pelagian -
And airport bishops, who are quite authoritarian,
Museum mummies, and of course the fundamentalist –
They'd none of 'em be missed – they'd none of 'em be missed!

CHORUS (Spadaro, Martin and Rosica): 
He’s got 'em on the list – he’s got 'em on the list;
And they'll none of 'em be missed – they'll none of 'em be missed.

Pope and Spadaro

"I'm sure they'll not be missed."

Mr and Mrs Whiner, and the others of their race -
And the old triumphalist - I’ve got him on the list!
And the existential tourist with a pickled-pepper face -
He never would be missed – he never would be missed!
Then the sloth-diseased acedic Christian - he'll be going soon,
The slaves of superficiality, the sourpuss priest-tycoon;
And the modern gnostics, rigid Christians, who are too polite -
The Christian bats who still prefer the shadows to the light!
And then the querulous and disillusioned pessimist –
I don’t think he'd be missed – I’m sure he'd not be missed!

CHORUS. He’s got him on the list – he’s got him on the list;
And I don’t think he'll be missed – I’m sure he'll not be missed!
Pope and Cupich

"Buddy, can you spare a paradigm?"

And that type of leprous courtier, who just now is rather rife,
The restorationist – I’ve got him on the list!
Promoters of the poison of immanence, causing strife –
They'd none of 'em be missed – they'd none of 'em be missed.
And those cardinals who know their faith, 
                                 but will not change their mind,
Such as – What d'ye call him – Raymond Thingy,
                                     and Walter -  Never-mind,
And then there's Gerhard What's-his-name, and Robert You-know-who –
The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you.
But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,
For they'd none of 'em be missed – they'd none of 'em be missed!

CHORUS. You may put 'em on the list – you may put 'em on the list;
And they'll none of 'em be missed – they'll none of 'em be missed!

Burke and Sarah

"Let's go for a drink - I don't think we'll be missed."


  1. Bravo!!!! Encore!!! Unless, of course, I'm on the list.

  2. BRILLIANT as an old D'Oyly Carter

  3. I have these lyrics circulating in my head now ! lol

  4. Wow...this is very very good talented little Catholic subversive you !However I would not count on receiving a Christmas Card from the Vatican this year.

  5. This is certainly on a par with your revised version of "The Vicar of Bray"
    And I too think that you had better not look forward to receiving a Christmas Card from the Pope this year.

  6. And another aria to add to the opera. It's by Hugh N. Cry, originally published in

    (Sung to the tune of "Nina from Argentina" by Noel Coward)

    Señor Obisbo

    Señor Obisbo Jorge Borgoglio, entered the conclave,
    in th’Eternal City enclave,
    And emerged the next successor of Saint Pete.

    He said, “I’m not keen on many rituals, they’re just residuals, and there should be less.
    In fact I’ll just tell everyone they should make a mess.
    Home will be Santa Marta not that papal suite.”

    He added firmly that the Church should
    Be like a hospital recov’ry room.
    And he also positively could
    Not abide Summorum Pontificum.

    His words often mercurial, and it raises his pressure arterial,
    When he sees those magisterial, sartorial sort of breeds.
    Forever praying on their beads,
    It lends him fodder for his screeds.

    Oh, there’s no looking back, that’s wrong, Forward, Avanti!
    And at Mass bring back the folk song, Onward, Avanti!
    Or haven’t you heard?

  7. Nobody expects the Argie inquisition . . . .