The Pope he is a happy man, His palace is the Vatican, And there he sits and drains his can: The Pope he is a happy man. I often say when I'm at home, I'd like to be the Pope of Rome. And then there's Sultan Saladin, That Turkish Soldan full of sin; He has a hundred wives at least, By which his pleasure is increased: I've often wished, I hope no sin, That I were Sultan Saladin. But no, the Pope no wife may choose, And so I would not wear his shoes; No wine may drink the proud Paynim, And so I'd rather not be him: My wife, my wine, I love, I hope, And would be neither Turk nor Pope. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIFE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE PROGRESSIVE HEALTH by CARL DENNIS OLD FOLKS AT HOME by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 19. TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE HIGH TIDE AT [OR, ON THE COAST OF] LINCOLNSHIRE by JEAN INGELOW SONNET: 35 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ODE TO THE WEST WIND by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY |