The Thief, The Priest and the Pearly Gate.
He didn’t speak a word about life or death
He was a man of few options and his politics left
Without a wife he lived alone in monetary strife
His world was all about risk and smoking his pipe
But when he entered a room he often brought gloom
Which you could cut with a knife.
To all who knew him, for even part of his life
He was a man of few words and little appeal
And once did even steal
From the tithings at the Church of St Augustine
What a thrill he did get
From taking wealth from the plate
For he was in need of some heavenly justice
And all one can say is, “Good on ya mate!”
For the priest will have more than enough
For gluttony, for lust and for bait
To impress his mistress and seal his fate
Of never passing through the pearly gate.
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