Come gather 'round Traddies
Hated by Rome
And admit that progressives
Around you have grown
They won't cut you slack
Or throw you a bone.
If your soul to you
Is worth saving
Then start Tradding water
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the Doctrines they are a-changin’.
Those prelates and progs
Make the Faith a pig pen
With Masonic eyes open
Your money they spend
They reason like loons
But the wheel's still in spin
And it's ineluctable who
That it's namin'.
For the Trad loser now
Will be later to win
For the Doctrines they are a-changin’.
Come Bishops, Priests
Please flee the call
Flee the lies told
Inside Paul The Sixth Hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be Trads who have balls
There's a battle inside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the Doctrines they are a-changin’.
Trad mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
Please criticise
Their Indifferent stand
Your sons and your daughters
Will follow Christ's commands
The Progs are Rapidly agin'.
Ignore the Shadow Church
It’s Masonic and bland
For the Doctrines they are a-changin’.
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
Tradition is Rapidly fadin'.
And the Trads now
Will be the sole ones to last
For the Doctrines they are a-changin'.
