I was minding my business
Lifting some lead off
The roof of the Holy Name church.
It was worthwhile living a laughable life
To set my eyes on the blistering sight
Of a vicar in a tutu.
He's not strange;
He just wants to live his life this way.
A scanty bit of a thing
With a decorative ring
That wouldn't cover the head of a goose.
As Rose collects the money in a canister,
Who comes sliding down the banister
But the vicar in a tutu.
He's not strange;
He just wants to live his life this way.
The monkish monsignor
With a head full of plaster
Said, "My man, get your vile soul dry-cleaned."
As Rose counts the money in the canister,
As natural as rain
He dances again, my god!
The vicar in a tutu,
Oh yeah.
The next day in the pulpit.
With freedom and ease,
Combating ignorance, dust, and disease.
As Rose counts the money in the canister,
As natural as rain
He dances again and again and again
In the fabric of a tutu,
Any man could get used to.
And I am the living sign.
The Vicar of Shakes Chapel
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