Unmoving, unshaking, and stubborn as mules
'cause we've set up all sorts of most rigid rules
Don't come to communion, we'll turn you away,
we're not like those liberals in E-L-C-A.
Our women are quiet, the pulpit's for men.
The rooster rules over the nest and the hen.
Don't ask any questions; just do as you're told -
good Lutherans, like jello, are made from a mold.
Like Luther, we're grounded in God's faith and fear.
We sing Back with gusto and brew our own beer.
We don't want outsiders; our church is the best.
We're God's chosen people, the LC-MS.
Insuff'rable, smug we're so full of ourselves
If only all others were like us as well.
Who needs the Lord Jesus as we know the way,
We are so adaptable E-L-C-A.
Since Scripture is myth we choose what we will hear,
Who knows what we will believe in only a year.
The Reformed and the Romans are welcome to dine
At our open altars. It makes us feel fine.
Our Lord he was bound by the Norms of the day,
If he were around now, he'd do it our way.
He left much unfinished and much to improve
That's where we come in; we're the church on the move.
We now ordain women, and we will not stop
Till gays, dogs and donkeys will all have their shot
At being called pastors, to lisp, bark or bray
The PC pronouncments of E-L-C-A.