Balls to boules
the posh French prats
Off with their, off with their
heads
The Queen of Hearts
The Queen of Tarts
Baking all day again
The bishop farts
In his castle keep
Surrounded by the rain
The vain moat
The holy goat
The smoking Bent piranha
It's getting past a joke
I cannot gloat
As I'm sat here wearing
Pyjamas
Stick them up their ......
It's a piece of cake
The jack could fit
Up their ass
Jackass
Bishop's palace
Bishop's eye
We bouled them out we did
His eyes were balling
Like a kid
The Bishop had a log in his
Pull it before you
Talk about a stick in his
The green was oh so perfect
So unlike Eden
You couldn't believe it
Sacrosanct halls
Well painted interiors
Smelling of the lush value of superiors
Or those who give themselves
Just so much self-esteem
As God doesn't give them
This is Ego's dream
Riven from the arrogance
And pride of Hallowed halls
Where hypocrisy is the bride
And the Wedding vows are called
Just so You know The place I mean
It's the Bishop's Palace
Wells
On the Bowling Green
The self-preservation society
They're called
All things come to those who wait
It's just the time is lean
And As the time gets thinner
So the Greed gets mean
As you realize if you're a winner
You must swallow your pride
The problem is the tongue
Gets in the way
And you end up saying what you
Should not ever say
You see that's the way a beginner begins
Believing in the almighty
He realises he has everything to learn
Still at the age of ninety
Because it's not about your coat tails
Or the way you dress your pudding
But it's all about the summer days
And the mess you make of gooding
All the good and all the bad
All tied up in your old dad
Our father who art in Bruton
Hallowed be thy name
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