AnonymousSackcloth and ashes and days without eating,
(to be sung to the tune of “My Favorite Things”)
Penitence, flagellants, memento mori,
Spending nights sleeping on rocks in a quarry,
The sound of a cloaked solemn cantor who sings —
These are still more of my favorite things!
Tossing and turning and yearning, I’m spurning!
Passions aflame like an ember-day burning,
Corpus and carnis and wild drunken flings —
Forsaken are they for my favorite things!
When it’s Christmas,
When the tree’s lit,
When the cards are sent...
I simply remember my favorite things —
And then I can’t waaaaaaaaait ’til Lent!