Perhaps a glass of wine might clear my head said the vicar
Terribly hung over from the night before, out with the choir
Oh how they had sung, such gusto in the village streets
Rock ‘n Roll, what fun, dancing with the stars and moon
Who had mostly certainly applauded, and who could blame them
For the melodies and beats were majestic, if not heavenly
But not to worry, thought the vicar, recalling kissing the girl
Just after his wife had left with the organist, a lovely man
We can all repent on Sunday, and be granted forgiveness
So that we can start this old wheel spinning again

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