|If you would like to see more of the clergy unfrocked, please send your favourite limerick, preferably frocked, to the webmaster: Abscissa & Mantissa|
|Said the Abbot, “I’m not pleased one bit,
Brother Andrew, that you should submit
Your signed IOU,
In lieu of a ewe.
I just won’t accept that sheep chit.”
|“When I see a monk’s arse, I just grab it,”
Said the lazily amorous Abbot.
“Although it’s more fun
To have sex with a nun,
It’s so hard to get into the habit.”
|Whenever the Abbot craves fun,
He summons the same willing one:
A hot-panties Sister,
Who makes his cock blister,
She is known as his sine qua nun.
|There was an Archbishop of Reims
Who played with himself in his dreams.
On his night-shirt in front,
He had printed a cunt,
Which made his seed gush forth in streams.
|The Bishop of Ibu Plantation
Wrote a thesis on Transfiguration
For The Christian Review,
As all good Bishops do,
While practicing miscegenation.
|There was once a Bishop of Bude
Who every so often got screwed.
He might have atoned
If he’d only got stoned:
But a Rev. getting screwed - well, that’s lewd.
|“Well, Madam,” the Bishop declared,
While the Vicar just mumbled and stared,
“’Twere better, perhaps,
In the crypt or the apse,
Because sex in the nave must be shared.”
|A Cardinal living in Rome
Had a Renaissance bath in his home.
He could gaze at the nudes,
As he worked up his moods
In emulsions of semen and foam.
|There was a young curate of Buckingham,
Who was blamed by the girls for not fucking ’em.
He said, “Though my cock
Is as hard as a rock,
Your cunts are too slack. Put a tuck in ’em.”
|A lecherous curate from Kew,
Rogered the Deans wife in a pew.
“Although Im not pious,”
He said, “Ive a bias.
I think it diviner to screw.”
|There once was a curate of Kew,
Who preached with his vestments askew.
A lady called Morgan
Caught sight of the organ
And promptly passed out in the pew.
|There was a young curate of Twickenham
Whose pants had a wonderful prick in ’em.
He thought it great guns
To strip all the nuns,
And this marvellous prick to stick in ’em.
|A naughty old deacon called Jim,
Whose notions of fucking were grim,
Used to get lots of fun
Out of shagging a nun,
With the Sign of the Cross on her quim.
|Have you heard of the Dean of St. Paul’s,
Who hasn’t a hair on his balls?
When asked why this is,
He whispers, in bliss,
“The rector, my God, how he mauls!”
|The unfortunate Dean of South Herts
Was caught importuning some tarts.
His good wife was shocked
When the Dean was unfrocked:
For the first time she saw all his parts.
|Father O’Malley’s final emission
Sent his soul to eternal perdition.
It wasn’t the fuck
That knackered his luck,
But his lack of the proper contrition.
- Contributed by PAGB
|A contrite acolyte of Friar Ansell
Said, “Last night by mischance in the chancel,
Lured by carnal desires,
I had sex with Miss Myers.
Are there prayers such a whimsy might cancel?”
|There was a young friar named Borrow,
Who eloped with two nuns to his sorrow.
They lived on an isthmus,
And one he called Christmas,
And the other he christened Tomorrow.
|When a lecherous friar in Leeds
Was discovered, one day, in the weeds
Astride a young nun,
He said, “Christ, this is fun!
Far better than telling one’s beads!”
|A young Catholic layman named Fox
Makes his living by sucking off cocks.
In fits of depression,
He goes to confession,
And jacks off the priest in the box.
|There once was a monk of Gibraltar,
Who buggered a nun on the altar.
“Good God!” said the nun,
“Now look what you’ve done:
You’ve gummed up the leaves of the Psalter.”
|There was a young monk from Kilkyre,
Who was smitten with carnal desire.
The immediate cause
Was the Abbess drawers,
Which were hung up to dry by the fire.
- Contributed by Poshtotty
|There once was a monk from Siberia
Whose manners were rather inferior.
He did to a nun
What he shouldnt have done
And now shes a Mother Superior.
|There was an old monk in Siberia
Whose existence grew steadily drearier.
He broke out of his cell
With one hell of a yell
And buggered the Mother Superior.
|There was an old monk from Siberia,
Who seemed to get wearier and wearier.
No wonder; this monk
Was sharing his bunk
With his girlfriend, the Mother Superior.
|A young novice priest of Lahore,
Ogled nuns in the convent galore.
He climbed in and defiled one,
Who proved such a wild one,
That he stayed to defile her some more.
|There was a poor parson from Goring,
Who made a small hole in his flooring,
Fur-lined it all round,
Then laid on the ground,
And declared it was cheaper than whoring.
|There was a young parson named Bings,
Who talked about God and such things;
But his secret desire
Was a boy in the choir
With an ass like a jelly on springs.
|There was an old parson of Lundy,
Fell asleep in his vestry on Sunday.
He awoke with a scream,
“What? Another wet dream!
This comes of not fucking since Monday.”
|The Pope, in regalia first class,
Kissed the cunt of a nun after Mass.
He judged her fair slit,
To be juicy and fit,
So smoke signals poured out of his ass.
|There was a young man from St. Giles
Whod walked thousands and thousands of miles,
From the Cape of Good Hope
Just to bugger the Pope,
But he couldnt. The Pontiff had piles!
- Contributed by Poshtotty
|A preacher who lived in Bangkok
Had a truly adjustable cock.
This remarkable feature
Enabled the preacher
To satisfy all of his flock.
|A renegade priest from Nigeria
Whose morals were clearly inferior
Had one night of fun
With a nubile young nun
And now she’s a Mother Superior.
|A horny young priest of Peoria
Lived in ecstatic euphoria.
He had lots of fun
By fucking a nun
While chanting the Sanctus and Gloria.
|There was a young Rector of Kings,
Whose mind was on heavenly things.
But his heart was on fire
For a boy in the choir,
Whose ass was like jelly on springs.
- Contributed by Poshtotty
|There once was a Vicar of Climping
Who earned tons of money from pimping.
When his Bishop asked why,
He replied with a sigh,
“Well, you can’t have a man of God skimping.”
|There once was a choirboy from Crewe,
Who remarked as the Vicar withdrew,
The Bishop was quicker,
And thicker and slicker,
And two inches longer than you.
|There once was a Vicar of Horsham
Who always took every precaution:
Till one girl he screwed
Let a stray sperm intrude,
And that was a case for abortion.
|There was a young woman from Nod
Who wanted a baby from God.
It wasnt the Almighty
Who hitched up her nightie;
It was the Vicar, the dirty old sod!
|A randy Welsh vicar, well woozie,
Sought to couple with many a floozie.
For one, he had learned,
His roses had spurned,
Cos Soozie the floozie was choozie!
- Dixon Prix © 2002