Francis groggily stared at the collection of red-robed men
Who had surrounded him as he slept
He checked his clock, it wasn't yet 10
On the morning he found out that he would be Pope
One of the men stepped forward and Francis lept
Out of his bed, fully nude
And staring at the man even he would struggle to grope
But, not wishing to be rude,
He did so anyway, and the Cardinals immediately began
To Wonder about their decision
But Chatzy did know best, and so, as Francis ran,
They pursued, hearts filled not with anger but with hope
Calling after until their target stopped
"Please, you must come with us to Rome," one spoke, without the derision
That Francis had expected when he'd hopped
Out of his room, "You are to be the next Pope."
Gasping, Francis was taken aback
The Pope? He'd been Catholic most of his life,
But surely there was some mistake, his heart was quite black
Well, perhaps not his heart, but he knew his virtue was certainly soiled
Because of this he grinned, immediately plotting
With scandals the church was rife,
So surely a few more would not set it rotting
The Cardinals looked on, with no idea that their good intentions were already foiled
"Well then," Francis smiled
"Let us go then, to Rome,"
'I'm sure no one will mind their holy ground being defiled'
"I am excited to sit at my new throne."
The Cardinals nodded, glad that things had gone so well,
And escorted Francis to his exciting new home.
Immediately Francis knew he was going to hell,
but that was less ominous than a certain sort of scone
To him, and he immediately made his first decree,
"The Swiss Guard shall no longer wear shirts
Or even pants, when they are servicing me!"
The stern men immediately obeyed,
always willing to follow the Pope's orders,
and Francis nearly drooled at the sight of their pert-
"Shall I show you to your quarters?"
He turned around and almost prayed,
One of his guards stood behind him,
the man looked exactly like Francis' old friend Arthur,
(though not nearly as prim)
And Francis waved him closer,
"No," he spoke, "Although you would service your Pope well as a footrest,"
The man nodded and knelt, like a holy martyr,
And Francis reclined, the honored guest,
"Next," he yawned with impish glee, "Shall I have my hosts-er!"
"Fellow holy men," he continued, "Spread this
Ticket to salvation?" All around him leaned in, breath bated,
"All Catholics shall wear lingerie and kiss
Each other at mass, and the scripture shall be read in French!"
The hush of the room was immediately broken,
"But, your holiness, that violates-" Francis interrupted, elated,
"I am your Pope, officially selected," and the rest of the protest was left unspoken
And the other man sat back down on his bench.
"Now," Francis cackled, and internally every Cardinal wondered,
'Still more?'
"I will be redesigning all papal wear," and they thought of money squandered,
"No, wait, all official clerical robes shall be remade,
Whoever came up with these had horrible taste!"
Francis shucked his clothes and the Cardinal thought, 'What did we choose this man for?'
That though broke the strange haze, opened the holy gates,
And they realized their mistake, as they looked at the blonde, arrayed
In nothing, standing amid a horde of similarly clad
Guards, whose long-suffering expressions indicated
That they knew this man to be bad
Right from the start.
Nodding to one another, the Cardinals stepped forward as one,
"We're sorry, sir, but this can not be tolerated!
We made a mistake, you are not the Francis," a fat one began to drone
"That we had chosen, a mistake has been made, and it breaks our hearts,
But you must leave immediately, sir,
As we fly in the right Francis
From Argentina!" Blinking, Francis stood with a purr,
"Of course, of course," and,
Casually slapping his doppleganger-footrest's rear
Flounced out the room, pleased as any miss
or mister, his ear
listening intently for the "Thank God!" the clerics hissed.