| `protestant or catholic' |
| cried a voice from the crowd |
| `not you again st peter' |
| I was thinking aloud |
| should have packed my bags |
| headed off for the coast |
| had my time already come |
| to meet the heavenly host? |
| |
| they switched on their halos |
| adjusted their harps |
| checked that the blades |
| on the pearly gates were sharp |
| I asked them what they meant |
| about religious bent |
| they said `that's the test' |
| I said `that's the test-ah-meant' |
| |
| they were giving holy orders |
| I think you'll find |
| I was up against persuasion |
| of the religious kind |
| |
| it was hailing marys |
| at the drop of a tract |
| said the 7 deadly sins |
| were staying round at my flat |
| I pondered on the churches |
| of england and rome |
| hadn't paid the rent |
| for my spiritual home |
| needed guidance from the leaders |
| whose names I knew |
| archbishop. |
| and john player number two |
| I quaked in my sackcloth |
| threw away my joss-stick |
| burned my koran and said I was agnostic |
| `I mean an atheist' I cried |
| as they moved in for the kill |
| the walls tumbled down as they |
| handed me the bill |
| |
| they weren't impressed |
| with my distinctions |
| I think you'll find |
| that I was up against persuasion |
| of the religious kind |
| |
| a lamb to the slaughter |
| a human sacrifice |
| I told their spiritual leader |
| his sceptre looked nice |
| a hymn book skimmed my ear |
| but I was only grazed |
| I dived for cover |
| as the sawn-off bibles blazed |
| in the gore I gasped |
| `was it something I said?' |
| then a solid granite altar |
| hit me on the head |
| a collection plate plunged into my groin |
| they marched off discussing |
| the battle of the boyne |
| |
| as I expired I was thinking |
| they'd been rather unkind |
| but I was up against persuasion |
| of the religious kind |
| |
| bleeding and naked |
| I was somewhat at a loss |
| the good samaritan was drinking |
| at the sign of the cross |
| recalling their question I felt totally alone |
| as I peered out from underneath |
| the tablets of stone |
| in the gutter lay the crushed |
| remains of a bible |
| it proclaimed their grievances |
| were purely tribal |
| they made me see the light |
| for that I offer my thanks |
| I was collared by the dogs |
| now I've joined their ranks |
| |
| onward christian soldiers |
| I hope you don't mind |
| being afflicted by religion |
| of the persuasive kind |
| |
| now if you're visiting some irish town |
| the politicians' heads stuck in the ground |
| and the only bell ringing has a |
| graveyard sound |
| |
| someone's got to stand up or |
| nothing's gonna change |
| till religion |
| is rearranged |
