Daniel De Culla Poet Burlesque

CHRIST’ BLOOD

-Here comes Father Pedro
To say High Mass
And drink his fill of wine
Of that local red wine
Which he consecrates and elevates
In a chalice gilded inside
Silvered outside
Up to the ceiling of the Church
In Carbonero el Mayor
In the province of Segovia.
My father and the devout men and women
Who go to Mass every Sunday
And holy days of obligation
Tell us that this priest
Doesn't consecrate just one chalice
But three with a drop of water each
And that, when he elevates the consecrated host
You can already tell he's a little tipsy
Because when he pronounces “God’ Lamb”
He says “White She Lamb.”
In the Sermon, before finishing it
He stops to talk with the parishioners:
-How are you, Delia
With your happy delivery?

-Listen, Teresa
With those sins you confess
The Devil is waiting for you
With a sweet erect stick
Longing to shove it up your rectum.
Tell me, Constantina
Sad and afflicted woman
How is your husband?
Is he dead or alive?
Tell me, Daniela
Is your husband still lingering
Along your prolapsed womb?
When Mass ends
Don Pedro runs out
Wearing shoes seven leagues long
Because the village lads
Shout to him, but he doesn't answer:
Father, we want your hide
To make a sheepskin jacket.
Your head to make a lantern
To light up from September 5th to 9th
Our festival in honor
Of the Virgin of Bustar
(Bustar: pastureland)
Virgin of the Charcoal Burners.
Your donkey teeth
For our grandparents
Who need them so much.
Your fingernails to catch crickets
And black cockroaches.
Your tail to make a fan
For Your daughter
Born to the widow Gervasia
Your ever-present friend.
In the afternoon, after coffee
A glass and a Havana cigar
Don Pedro heads to the village bar
To play a game
Leaping and skipping 
Along the Eresma River
So he's tired.
They play Mus
And, during a break in the game
To have a round of coffee or a shot
His companions ask him:
-Tell us, Father
As a card player always a friend
What do you say to the young women
When they go to confession?
-When they go to confession
Because the flesh is weak
I always tell them:
-How I would love to see you give birth
And see God in the heaven of your !
The honorable widows
The lovely young women
How beautifully they dress to come to Mass!

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