Sack clothes and ashes and days without eating
Mortification and wailing and weeping
A sackcloth that scratches, a nettle that stings-
These are a few of my favorite things.
Penitence, flagellants, memento mori,
Spending nights sleeping on rocks in a quarry,
The sound of a cloaked solemn cantor who sings—
These are still more of my favorite things!
Tossing and turning and yearning, I’m spurning!
Passions aflame like an ember-day burning,
Corpus and carnis and wild drunken flings—
Forsaken are they for my favorite things!
When it’s Christmas,
When the tree’s lit,
When the cards are sent,
I simply remember my favorite things—
And then I can’t wait ’til Lent!
