Like some old crusading knight,
Was Pickles girded for the fight.
In armoured shirt and iron pants,
He'd tilt at godless militants.
On Faith, his steed, off to the lists
To slay those evil sec'larists
With steady lance and gleaming sword,
For stealing prayer from council boards.
And so the Minister for Faith
Urged his horse to galloping pace.
With levelled lance he gave a roar
And slew an atheist, made of straw.
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