By Andrew Simpson

Sister AbbottEdit

Funny And clean, but thoroughly mean
was poor sister Abbott
With a whistle and whip, a house she kicked
All to New Orleans

her heart of gold is met of old
With her Crimson hair
And her hand, does make a stand
And Kill the dirty schemes

But today she died, a cooker's fry
Had stolen away her breath
Now she sleeps in a temple steep
With the Saints of New Orleans

Sister RojoEdit

Sister Rojo had strange Mojo
She sang a song of Friar
Stealing crowns of older hounds
Children sing "Liar! Liar!"
she had not time to worry rhymes
But sat down in a latrine
When she felt a kidney's help
She fell to New Orleans

Holy Mother KatieEdit

Witch Woman, Witch Woman, you hold your keys
I have in hand the rites of old
And you with your please
Witch Woman, Witch Woman, or the children call
A slap of your broom, a call in the room
You chase them down the hall
Witch Woman, Witch Woman, You've been called by God
You held on the pipe, but fell in spite
And now is covered in sod

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