Good shots, Frank and John. ( Here's hoping I read the directions correctly!)
Yes, I remember Holy Other,
that pilgrim site for queasy souls,
Brother Spud and his shorter brother,
the one who wore the store-bought moles,
and Father Boaz' dulcet smell,
and Father Fitch of the twirling brows,
and the angelus, that addled bell
whose dong gave off the scent of cows,
the freezing cold baptismal font
that sang Bing Crosby bob--a--loo's
the incense which at times was wont
to giggle just before ach-oo's.
Yes, Holy Other was the non
plus ultra on the Pilgrim Line.
Wherever else could clerics don
the garb of Madame Eglantine?
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