Pope Benedikt, he flew first class
prepared his Sydney Morning Mass.
The plane went high, passed Planet Mars
that's where the Pope gave out cigars.
He lit his Cuban with his Bic
and told the Captain 'heels must click'.

In Rome the Pope eats Sauerkraut
it makes his bones and structures stout,
he keeps, next to his bed a kitten
because with pussycats he's smitten.
Describing her, as coarse of hair
and agile fingers, no compare.
Her tongue, sandpaper like a cow
she knows and executes the how.
He misses her, she had to stay
while Master Pope did go away.

Down Under though (no, not Valhalla) ,
they gave him Cecil, the Koala.
He sat, just like the pussycat
not on a special koala mat
but on his Holiness's crotch
while he partook of potent Scotch.

The press was hushed this morning though,
a ban on information flow,
it seems that Bendikt had stroked
and scratched and pulled and tugged and poked,
until the little bear went mad
the end result was pretty sad.

The good part is that as the Pope
he neither needs or uses dope,
nor would he have a real use
of certain structures, a recluse
he watches films and that is that
and dreams of his old pussycat.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-pope-visits/