We wait for
days and days and days
But black
smoke is all we see
We wait and
pray and pray and pray
Wonder who
the pope will be
We pray he’s
better’n the last
And does not
quit us so soon
We pray to
God they make it fast
My ankles
start to balloon
My back it
aches and too my head
And my wife
and sons have left
Holy day
leaves curses unsaid
Of my faith
I’m soon bereft
He waves to
me and I wave back
Not to say
hi but to tell
My throat’s
too dry to state the fact
