The Gap Year Chronicles

By serendipity, me and Joe found an old leather pocket book containing stories and poems and by chance I opened the book to find this poem fitting of the London trip.
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The Pope is a happy man,
His palace is the Vatican,
And there he sits and drains his can:
The Pope he is a happy man.
I often say when I’m at home,
I’d like to be the Pope of Rome

And then there’s the Sultan Saladin,
That Turkish Soldan full of sin ;
He has a hundred wives at least 
By which his pleasure is increased :
I’ve often wished, I hope no sin,
That I was the Sultan of Saladin.

But no, the Pope no wife may choose,
And so I would not wear his shoes ;
No wine may drink the proud Paynim,
And so I’d rather not be him ;
My wife, my wine, I love, I hope,
And would be neither Turk nor Pope.