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
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.