What's the pope do? Drinks, and takes a nap; <br />looks out the window, has a bite to eat, <br />fiddles with the housemaid's garter strap, <br />and makes the town a cushion for his feet. <br />No kids for him; a family man he's not — <br />why should he bother with his own brass band <br />when, come what may, he'll be the first on hand <br />to get whatever soup is in the pot? <br /> <br />He thinks he owns the earth — it's mine, all mine — <br />the air and water, bread and wine, the sun — <br />as if no dog but he could have a bone. <br />He'd almost almost like to be alone <br />in all the world, like God — it might be fun — <br />before he made the angels and mankind.<br /><br />Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-s-the-pope-do/
