You'd hear the flyin' whip crack. . .
He was barely dressed.
He was doomed--the Romans had seen him as a pest.
Son's down--they put him in there,
But three days later, seems he'd vanished in thin air.
Son's down, but not into air
Did he vanish; went seaward to France, over there.

And he took with him his queen;
They sailed, escaped clean,
And her name by now you've guessed:
Mary Magdalene.
Son's wife was that Mary dame,
And they started a fam'ly under assumed name.
Son's name lived on; he gained fame,
And then a major faith was graced with his place-name.

But the big boys back in Rome
Knew gnosis could shake
The church's foundations--
Action they had to take.
Unwound, they were in despair;
They feared that their machinations would become bare.
Big guys decreed: it's a sin
To be Gnostic or woman-worship. . .
You're done in.

They would seek out hard and fast
That gal Mary's kin,
And that tale's what led Dan Brown
To write "The Da Vin. . . ."
Bloodhound Langdon's over there,
And he's found what they're seeking
In a gal so fair.
She's kind of slinky and slim,
And her bloodline's a winnin' one. . .
Descended from Him.