(To the metre of ‘The quartermaster’s song’.)
Her crucifix… has diamonds cut
Perched up there on her cleavage, but…
The cross is pointing down below
Inverted? Well, no
But whenever… ahem
Whenever, she gets giggly
The cross’s chain pulls, it points at me
Bounces up and down, quite visibly —
See, the flashes of light, make me blink
I think Lomass thought it was a wink
But I don’t want that holy tripe…
In my destiny