A Little Priest Poem by Ima Ryma

When the little priest first showed up,
I had a bad vibe about him.
But I'm a good Catholic, yup,
So decided 'twas just a whim.
When my son became alter boy,
It did my mother's heart so proud,
And filled me with a grateful joy.
I told the little priest out loud
My thanks to him, picking my son.
Then later my son came to me.
I learned that a sin had been done
By that priest, a rapist was he.

That little priest, I made him die.
Then I baked him into a pie.