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.

This poem is in the public domain.