We've got to clean out the freezer
By tomorrow morning.
Cause the Jersey Board of Health
Has sent the final warning.
They're not buying our line
That dead nuns rise and shine.
So we must comply or face a fine.

We've got to clean out the freezer
Because they know we're the ones
Who have refused to start defrosting
Those four blue nuns!
The time has come to send them off to their reward
And let them greet the Lord.

Heaven awaits!
So pack 'em in crates
And tell St. Peter they'll be at those pearly gates!
Tell 'em "These are nuns on ice that we are
Certain didn't sin."
And we'd be very grateful if he'd let 'em
Come in.

We've got to clean out the freezer
By tomorrow morning.
Someone holler to Gabriel to blow his horn!
Cause when the saints go marchin through
That heavenly door,
Tell 'em there's gonna be four more.

We've got to clean out the freezer
And defrost the dead
Cause the Jersey Board of Health
Is claiming they were mislead
And they're not buying our line
That dead nuns rise and shine.
We must bury them instead.

---

I don't care if I'm ever rich or famous,
I just wanna be a star.
I don't care if you know what my name is,
I just wanna be a star.
I wanna be the nun who makes ya cheer,
The nun who's out in front, instead of in the rear.

Patsy sat back, glass of orange juice in hand, buried in her favorite easy chair. A smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she listened to the music. Ahh, hubris.

She sighed softly, staring at the liquid as it swirled aimlessly against the sides of the clear material festooned with bright flowers. It was, in a former life, a grape jelly jar. She glanced again at the handwritten note on her lap. The one telling her that her oldest, dearest friend was dead. She'd passed quietly in her sleep, the note advised, after a swift illness.

Her eyes closing, she leaned her head back to reminice, thinking back to the days when she and Mary Beth were in high school. They'd both gone to Catholic High School, and MB, as she was called back then, was determined to be a nun. All this despite her habit of smoking in the rest room, hiding joints in her socks, and attempting to frighten the nuns with condom wrapped bananas. They'd been through first boyfriends, first kisses, crushes, and all manner of adolescent female tomfoolery. It all ended after high school, unfortunately. MB went to Immaculata, Patsy went to the University of Pennsylvania.

There was one last night, the last time they'd seen each other outside of a restaraunt. Closeted in a hotel room, a graduation gift from Patsy's parents, as was the bottle of champagne, the two women spent the night talking out their hopes and dreams. Patsy, the idealistic one, wanted to save the world, one person at a time, through mental health. MB, on the other hand, wanted to save the world, one soul at a time. Which had the nobler pursuit? Neither dared go for that point.

Instead, they spent the night getting quite tipsy on the champagne, then making love until the wee hours of the morning. It was a first, last, and only experience for both of them, borne of sadness, but in joy.

Patsy's smile grew as she remembered that night, remembered their revels through the city. Mary Beth, she knew now, had been her one true love, the person she never forgot, who she always prayed for, worried over. And now she was somewhere safe, where the pain could never touch her again.

Patsy opened her eyes and raised her glass, smiling through the light sheen of tears. "Here's to you, MB. Holier than thou."

If you want to be a saint,
All you've got to do
Is pick a saint
To emulate
Who most embodies you.
Then figure out what made that saint
The idol of today.
Then follow in those footsteps,
And you've earned the right to say:

I'm holier than thou
I've got the spirit now
I feel like I'm in heaven
Because I'm holier than thou.
I'm holier than thou.
I've got the spirit now.
I thank God almighty that I'm
Holier than thou.

Now see sisters? It wasn't that hard.
Come on someone, give me a saint.
Saint Bernadette?
Bernadette, excellent choice.

Bernadette of Lourdes can be easily achieved
She said she saw a virgin,
Which of course, no one believed.
People said she lost her mind,
There was no lady there.
So go and find a virgin
And come back here and declare:

I'm holier than thou,
I've got the spirit now.
I feel like I'm in Heaven
Cause I'm holier than thou.
I'm holier than thou
I thank God almighty,
Cause I'm holier than thou.

Sisters help me out.
Come on, I know you can do it.
St. Lucy.
St. Lucy!

Lucy was a virgin,
So at that test you don't fail.
Lucy could be perfect,
Except for one detail.
Lucy was a martyr which could be a bit severe

I'll gladly help her out,
And posthumously we'll hear (preach):

I'm holier than thou,
I've got the spirit now.
I feel like I'm in Heaven
Cause I'm holier than thou.
I'm holier than though,
I've got the spirit now.
I thank God almighty
That I'm holier than thou.

You can be St. Anthony
And run a lost and found.
If you're into torture girls,
St. Agnes is renowned.
Mary Magdalene is perfect,
For the hooker with a dream.
With God all things are possible,
Nothing's too extreme!
Sing!

Lyrics from Nunsense.