I met a nice church girl
whom I recently converted
from "Pastor's little pearl"
to wild and perverted.

She was prim and proper
and always crossed her legs.
Now wild horses couldn't stop her.
She looks at me and begs. 

She needs it mornin', noon, and night,
and three times twice on Sunday.
If this keeps up she might
have me speaking tongues one day.

I printed up some tees,
said, "church girls are the best".
She's got skid marks on her knees
and a fabricated chest.

My friends can all attest
she de-chromed a trailer hitch.
Though I was quite impressed
only God can scratch that itch.

And that, my friend's, the reason
that church girls go to church.
Every Sunday their in season
and they breed like Nile Perch.