A Nun's Word

By Andrew Simpson

Sister Abbott
Funny And clean, but thoroughly mean was poor sister Abbott With a whistle and whip, a house she kicked All to New Orleans

her heart of gold is met of old With her Crimson hair And her hand, does make a stand And Kill the dirty schemes

But today she died, a cooker's fry Had stolen away her breath Now she sleeps in a temple steep With the Saints of New Orleans

Sister Rojo
Sister Rojo had strange Mojo She sang a song of Friar Stealing crowns of older hounds Children sing "Liar! Liar!" she had not time to worry rhymes But sat down in a latrine When she felt a kidney's help She fell to New Orleans

Holy Mother Katie
Witch Woman, Witch Woman, you hold your keys I have in hand the rites of old And you with your please Witch Woman, Witch Woman, or the children call A slap of your broom, a call in the room You chase them down the hall Witch Woman, Witch Woman, You've been called by God You held on the pipe, but fell in spite And now is covered in sod