Brother Ben, the dancing monk,
Started swaying when he was drunk.
He found he was a skillful mover,
Especially behind the Hoover.
He started dancing every day,
In any place, in any way.
The others thought he'd lost his head,
Cos he never heard a word they said.
They often found him by the bell
And fully thought he'd go to hell.
One day he danced upon a grave
He waltzed and smiled and gave a wave.
The other monks were in despair,
The poor things lost all of their hair.
Brother Ben wore dancing shoes,
Even when he cleaned the loos.
He danced with buckets and with brooms
While he was scrubbing out the rooms.
Down the aisle he danced in church,
The poor nuns hearts began to lurch.
He mimed his prayers in movements odd,
Said he was dancing just for God.