Old King Rown was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
He called for his crook and he called for his cope
And he called for his Thurifers three.
‘Where are the acolytes?’ asked the Thurifers.
‘Where, oh where can they be?’
There’s none so fair as can compare to the good old C of E!

Old King Rown was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
He called for his crook and he called for his cope
And he called for his Curates three.
‘We need a vacancy!’ moaned the Curates.
‘Where are the acolytes?’ asked the Thurifers.
‘Where, oh where can they be?’
There’s none so fair as can compare to the good old C of E!

Old King Rown was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
He called for his crook and he called for his cope
And he called for his Vicars three.
‘We’ll be bolshie if we want!’, said the Vicars.
‘We need a vacancy!’ moaned the Curates.
‘Where are the acolytes?’ said the Thurifers.
‘Where, oh where can they be?’
There’s none so fair as can compare to the good old C of E!

Old King Rown was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
He called for his crook and he called for his cope
And he called for his Bishops three.
‘Toe the party line!’, cried the Bishops.
‘We’ll be bolshie if we want’, said the Vicars.
‘We need a vacancy!’ moaned the Curates.
‘Where are the acolytes?’ asked the Thurifers.
‘Where, oh where can they be?’
There’s none so fair as can compare to the good old C of E!

Old King Rown was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
He called for his crook and he called for his cope
And he called for his Synods three.
‘Now to square the laity’, said the Synods.
‘Toe the party line!’, cried the Bishops.
‘We’ll be bolshie if we want’, said the Vicars.
‘We need a vacancy!’ moaned the Curates.
‘Where are the acolytes?’ asked the Thurifers.
‘Where, oh where can they be?’
There’s none so fair as can compare to the good old C of E!

Old King Rown was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
He called for his crook and he called for his cope
And he called for his Primates three. 
‘Time to spank the Yanks!’, said the Primates.
‘If that’s what you want?’, said our Cantuar.
‘Now to square the laity’, said the Synods.
‘Toe the party line!’, cried the Bishops.
‘We’ll be bolshie if we want’, said the Vicars.
‘We need a vacancy!’ moaned the Curates.
‘Where are the acolytes?’ asked the Thurifers.
‘And the poor old laity?’ (sung slowly, and with feeling, please)

There’s none so fair as can compare to the good old C of E!