The Parson’s Nose : 13 stanzas each of 4 lines about a bloke named Bluey mad a bad mistake at church.
The parson’s nose was a red, red rose
All freshly bloomed and stinging,
His head felt like a choir-loft
With the choir still up there singing.
Then Bluey’s fist, which seldom missed
Met his unprotected jaw.
And heavenwards the parson rose
Then descended to the floor.
The congregation, from sedation,
As it were, at last awoke
And a pair of sturdy fellows
Tore Blue off the holy bloke.