The Relic Song

Well this is the story of the tricks and glory of the medieval Catholic Church

The plague was killin’ and the Lutherans winnin’ in the battle for souls on Earth

So the pope looked around and then up and then down, an idea underneath his hat

He looked at a deacon, said, “Listen here, Stephen, I think we can cap-it-al-ize on that…”

So some henchmen went roamin’ in the Catacombs of Rome and dug up all the bones of the poor

They wrapped ‘em in gold, ready to be sold, complete with lots of made-up lore

Then they got in their stirrups and rode across Europe and in every town they said,

“Listen here pagans, if you want savin’, give your money to our holy dead”

Well it ain’t

quite the truth

But neither does it count as a masterful lie

Just another money-maker

Designed by rich men digging through pockets in the name of the Bank of Jesus Christ

Buy the finger of Peter, you fishing net weaver, and you’ll catch more fish than you can fry

Wear the girdle of Magdalene on your birthing bed, your baby will not die

There are 98 vials of the foreskin of Jesus and they’re yours for a limited price

Just pay the church all that’s in your purse

And we’ll throw in Saint Lucy’s eyes

Or can we…

Interest you in relics from the maidens of St Ursula

Hundreds of ‘em, got so many we need to disperse ‘em all

How’s about the yella braid that once adorned St Agatha

Here’s a St Theresa, I think that it’s a scapula

Don’t be scared, it don’t have to be a big dilemma

Just pay to touch the severed head of Cath’rine of Siena

The dried blood of St Jan-u-ar-i-us will turn to liquid

If you pay up with any-thing that’s gilded

Here’s the tongue of Anthony, ‘n it’s still wet like he’s still livin’

All 10 of Clare’s fingernails, can’t ya feel the grace they’re givin?

And a sword from when St Oda cut her own dang nose off

And a relic from when mourners bit St Francis’s toes off

Doubting Thomas stuck his finger in the bleeding wounds of Jesus

Now it’s yours for a buck and a bit of your fine cheeses

In my bag I’ve got some Peter and St Paul

O bless your heart, you need ‘em, o ya gotta catch ‘em all

Ya gotta hand it to that pope, he sold a whole lotta hope in a time that was brutal and dire

And tho hope ain’t his intent that’s the way that it went and what is hope but a kindle for fire?

Who knows how the world coulda spun up and whirled if those fake holy bones had stayed dead

Or how many ways of keepin’ the faith mighta colored our world instead?

O it ain’t

quite the truth

But neither does it count as a masterful lie

Just another money-maker

Designed by rich men diggin’ thru pockets in the name of the bank of Jesus Christ

It ain’t

Quite the truth

But neither does it count as a masterful lie

Just another money-maker

Became a way of marketing that Bank of Jesus Christ

Became a way of colonizing prayers for Jesus Christ

Became a way of honoring that gay ole boy Jesus Christ

Amen