A mousegray, speckled, hungry moth
had found the vicar's holy cloth.
When darkness drifted from the spire
she started chewing the attire.
Slid from the pulpit at great speed
a moth whose body was in need.
Unerring was his navigation
though churches practice obfuscation.
God knows that moths eat just like swine
they smack and grunt as they recline
their favourite food is cotton plain
which they can usually obtain
where people wear old fashioned frocks
like vicar's robes and cotton socks.
He did approach her from behind
not knowing whether she would mind.
And in the folds of holy cloth
he perpetrated on the moth
a carnal act (one to another)
soon after, moth became a moth-er.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moth-er-for-grown-children/