Vicarious Vestments

Now who's for a prayer in the chapel?
Are you coming? Oh, do say you will
I'm conducting the prayers in my seersucker shirt
And my jodhpurs of cavalry twill

We'll be holding the sacrament later
When I change into something divine
It's a cloak of deep noir with a lining of rouge
So it won't show the drips from the wine

Then for afternoon deep meditation
I wear green, for it helps me to think
And when I feel thoroughly cleansed in my soul
I like pastels and preferably pink

Sometime I wish I were High Church
Instead of so painfully low
For on feast days and priest days I'd really let rip
In my sequins and ermine and mole

But what would one wear for confession?
Something sombre in deep satin folds?
Or to match all the stories of succulent sin
Ruches of scarlets and purples and gold

I must say I'm pleased to be different
And always stand out in a crowd
For in dull clergy clothes I would not be seen dead
Not without my reversible shroud

But at least in my own congregation
I can dress in the fabrics I want
Velour in the vestry, shantung in the crypt
And my terylene trunks for the font