I was minding mind business Lifting some lead off The roof of the Holy Name church It was worthwhile living a laughable life Just to set my eyes on a blistering sight Of a vicar in a tutu He's not strange He just wants to live his life this way A scanty bit of a thing With a decorative ring That wouldn't cover the head of a child As Rose collects the money in the canister Who comes sliding down the banister The vicar in a tutu He's not strange He just wants to live his life this way The monkish monsignor With a head full of plaster Said 'my man, get your vile soul dry-cleaned' As Rose counts the money in the canister As natural as rain He dances again My God Vicar in a tutu, oh yeah The next day in the pulpit With freedom and ease Combating ignorance, dust and disease As Rose counts the money in the canister As natural as rain he dances again And again and again The fabric of a tutu Any man could get used to And I am a living sign