We drive the Pope out of here, out of Christ's church, out of God's
house, into the earthly trinket, and count how many souls are missing him.
Be true to yourself, you damned son, you red bride of Babylon, you are the
cruel and antichrist, full of lies, deceit and poverty.
The Roman scourge is over, the righteous popes will never again.
This is God's Son, the Faithful and Christ, on whom his church is built.
So,
for my and Christ's peace and joy, send us your friend Mary.
From Paris to Turkey we welcome you.