>>64168334
The Cat in the Cassock
In a chapel, in Rome, where the incense was thick,
The Catholics gathered and prayed rather quick.
With rosaries dangling, with candles alight,
They genuflect left, then genuflect right.
“Oh here is a priest in a collar so neat,
He blesses the wine and hands out the wheat.
But wait!” cried the Cat, with a theological grin,
“There are sects upon sects, and they all think they win!”
The Jesuits argue, the Dominicans shout,
The Franciscans mumble what faith is about.
“Be quiet!” said Rome, “We are One, Holy See!”
(Though a dozen sub-orders buzz like a bee).
Then out in the East where the icons are kissed,
A Russian popped up with a nationalist list.
He thumped on the table, he shouted with glee,
“Our Orthodox Church is the State—can’t you see?”
With onion domes shining, with choirs that drone,
They made the tsar’s altar the nation’s own throne.
They bless every tank, they baptize each gun,
(Though Jesus once said war was not very fun).
And somewhere between, in the split and the schism,
The Patriarch waves with a frown of Byzantinism.
Greek here, Antioch there, Copt far away,
“Orthodox unity!” (for just one whole day).
So whether in miters, or in furry tall hats,
They wrangle like Seuss-birds, they bicker like cats.
Yet all of them chant, in incense and hymn:
“That we, and not they, are the One True within!”
