Priest walks warily down the street
With his mitre pulled way down low.
Looks around; he’ll be bound to retreat,
His lean gams ready to go.

He’s “rock” steady
Peter-ready—not his!
He’ll amble if necessary toute de suite,
Out of a doorway a sister slips;
What she wants is not mete!

Run, run, run!
Another nun rife with lust.
Run, run, run!
Another nun rife with lust.
And another gloms on,
And another gloms on,
Another nun rife with lust.
Hey, guess what she wants to do,
Another nun rife with lust.

This behavior is decidedly wrong—
The vows seem to have gone.
They’re looking for a strong becloaked “dad,”
And lickerishly they moan
For a padre, make ’em satisfied. . .
The old joke: “What kind of meat
Is it for the Friday din-din
That you, Mr. priest, eat?”

“None, none none.”
Another pun bites the dust.
Nuns, nuns, nuns
Runnin’ amok, rife with lust.
And another gloms on,
And another gloms on,
Another nun rife with lust.
Hey! She don’t want to bless you,
Another nun rife with lust.

Another nun rife with lust [4x]

But the hat man says they can’t have a man
Once they’ve taken the vows.
They can greet ’im
But can’t meet ’im
Where they sleep, so they can’t beav ’im.
They ain’t fraus:
So they’re horny, yes, they’re a horny crew;
They’re randy as a cat in heat.
Out of the doorway they rush to meet
A priest and latch on to his meat.

Run! Run! Run! Another nun rife with lust. . . .