In which we Rome around (II)

A poem written for the Vatican City, in all its ornate glory.

Vast quantities of g(u)ilt

At your service, Mr Pope, sir.

There’s no such thing as too much

Icing (particularly the fecund floral

Curlicue ceilinged-variety),

And we’ve got a truckload of figleaves at

No extra cost – the boys have their

Chisels at the ready.

It’ll pay for itself, sir, don’t you worry,

They’ll be lining up to see

Yon naked gents, just you wait.