Oh Father, thanks for making me
not as that two-faced Pharisee!
He gives alms and rings a bell.
I give none, but wish folk well.

He fasts for holiness in men’s eyes.
I feast on all that money buys.
He keeps the law that Moses brought.
I hold that foolishness for naught.

In short, he’s a foul hypocrite,
and I, a holy reprobate.
He practices good, by Temple Wall;
I don’t practice good at all.

Thank you, I am no Pharisee,
when all is said, I worship me.