LO, every time I think of God
I get an itch inside my ass.
I scratch and scratch and scratch it good
While Padre gives his Sunday Mass.
And now he reads a song from Psalms
Then turns to quote a verse from Mark
And all the while my desperate palms
Inside my pants dig in the dark.
The sideward glance I get from some,
And sniffle sniff in veiled disgust.
The dirty looks now when I come.
But I'll keep doing what I must.
     What they don't know, my thing of late,
     I leave a stain in the collection plate.