Cerevisia et Herba Sancta (Beer and the Holy Herb) by Changeling

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 🧚 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Lyrics:
Written by Changeling.

Music & Vocals:
AI-generated with Suno AI
using original creative direction, musical concepts, and prompts by Changeling.

Cover Artwork:
AI-generated from an original concept by Changeling.

May your path always find another story.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 🧚 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

We tiptoe past the chapel when the sunrise paints the floor,
But really, we get up early just to start a little pillow war.
The novices think we’re angels, gliding through the hall,
While Sister Agnes hides a flask behind the Chapel wall.

We light our “holy incense”—smells suspicious, yes—
And cough between the psalms we sing, pretending we confess.
Sister Joan winks at Sister Meg, who drops her prayer book down,
And Sister Ruth is sneaking cookies from the pantry, without a sound.

We laughed our way through “Glory be” and yelled a mighty “Amen!”
And toasted all around — for the Lord, and for gin!
Benedic, Domine, cerevisiam… et herbam sanctam

The abbess shakes her head at us, but she doesn’t make a fuss—
She knows a little mischief makes a more pious Mass.

The fairground lights were twinkling as we strutted through the crowd,
Habits flapping, cookies stashed, our laughter way too loud.
We spotted then the carousel, spinning wildly in delight,
And Sister Joan proclaimed, “We ride it all — each horse in sight!”

We scrambled on the spinning mounts, not caring who might stare,
Sister Meg shrieked with joy, our laughter filled the air.
The music blared, the lights went round, we giggled all the way,
Then shouted loud, “No worries, friends — this ride’s been blessed today!”
Benedictio caruselli perfecta est

The crowd all smiled and nodded, thinking we were saints at play,
Not knowing we just wanted to ride each horse and duck that day.

We bless the hops, we bless the herb,
We bless the dice — no need to be perturbed!
Benedictio nunnarum semper cum vobis

We smoke, we laugh, we spin, we tease,
We praise the Lord — forgive us, sinners please.
Gaudium nostrum fortitudo est

We puffed our holy incense under the convent trees,
Sister Meg was giggling, dancing in the breeze.
Then came the crunch of boots — two officers appeared,
One shined his light, the other squinted, looking weird.

“What are you doing?” asked the cop, raising a stern brow high,
Sister Joan curtsied deeply: “We bless the harvest tonight!”
Sister Ruth tripped over her habit, spilling herbs on the floor,
We laughed and said, “It’s holy — the garden’s blessed galore!”
Benedicimus vos in itinere

The policemen scratched their heads, uncertain what to say,
Then slowly tipped their hats and walked politely on their way.

One Saturday we ventured out, our habits neat and pressed,
And stumbled on a neon sign: Starlight casino Fest.
Sister Joan whispered, “Surely someone here needs a prayer,”
Sister Meg grinned slyly and said, “And maybe luck to spare!”

Inside the lights were dazzling, music bright and bold,
Sister Ruth marched straight ahead to a shiny slot of gold.
She crossed herself dramatically and pulled the lever slow—
When it chimed, she yelled, “A MIRACLE! LET’S GO!”
Benedicimus aleam… non ut vincamus, sed ut gaudeamus

People stared in disbelief, but we had our excuse:
“We blessed these sinful chips, to keep them free from abuse!”

We bless the hops, we bless the herb,
We bless the dice — no need to be perturbed!
Benedictio nunnarum semper cum vobis

We smoke, we laugh, we spin, we tease,
We praise the Lord — forgive us, sinners please.
Gaudium nostrum fortitudo est

Monday, we blessed the beer, and cookies flew in the air,
Tuesday, we rode the carousel without a single care.
Wednesday, we danced in the chapel, incense blazing high,
Thursday, we baked holy cakes that left us cracking smiles.

Friday, the policemen came, but left with a grateful smile,
Saturday, the casino lights had tempted us a while.
Sunday, we gathered back, our habits slightly frayed,
And whispered to the Lord, “Forgive our week of play!”
Mischia sancta semper vobiscum

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⚠️ Disclaimer ⚠️ No real nuns were involved, consulted, inconvenienced, or even mildly startled in the making of this song. All characters are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to actual nuns—living, departed, or secretly riding carousels—is purely coincidental. These lyrics are based on zero real convents, zero real clergy, and at least several imaginary cookies. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 🧚 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ © 2025 Changeling Lyrics: Written by Changeling. Music & Vocals: AI-generated with Suno AI using original creative direction, musical concepts, and prompts by Changeling. Cover Artwork: AI-generated from an original concept by Changeling. May your path always find another story. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 🧚 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ We tiptoe past the chapel when the sunrise paints the floor, But really, we get up early just to start a little pillow war. The novices think we’re angels, gliding through the hall, While Sister Agnes hides a flask behind the Chapel wall. We light our “holy incense”—smells suspicious, yes— And cough between the psalms we sing, pretending we confess. Sister Joan winks at Sister Meg, who drops her prayer book down, And Sister Ruth is sneaking cookies from the pantry, without a sound. We laughed our way through “Glory be” and yelled a mighty “Amen!” And toasted all around — for the Lord, and for gin! Benedic, Domine, cerevisiam… et herbam sanctam The abbess shakes her head at us, but she doesn’t make a fuss— She knows a little mischief makes a more pious Mass. The fairground lights were twinkling as we strutted through the crowd, Habits flapping, cookies stashed, our laughter way too loud. We spotted then the carousel, spinning wildly in delight, And Sister Joan proclaimed, “We ride it all — each horse in sight!” We scrambled on the spinning mounts, not caring who might stare, Sister Meg shrieked with joy, our laughter filled the air. The music blared, the lights went round, we giggled all the way, Then shouted loud, “No worries, friends — this ride’s been blessed today!” Benedictio caruselli perfecta est The crowd all smiled and nodded, thinking we were saints at play, Not knowing we just wanted to ride each horse and duck that day. We bless the hops, we bless the herb, We bless the dice — no need to be perturbed! Benedictio nunnarum semper cum vobis We smoke, we laugh, we spin, we tease, We praise the Lord — forgive us, sinners please. Gaudium nostrum fortitudo est We puffed our holy incense under the convent trees, Sister Meg was giggling, dancing in the breeze. Then came the crunch of boots — two officers appeared, One shined his light, the other squinted, looking weird. “What are you doing?” asked the cop, raising a stern brow high, Sister Joan curtsied deeply: “We bless the harvest tonight!” Sister Ruth tripped over her habit, spilling herbs on the floor, We laughed and said, “It’s holy — the garden’s blessed galore!” Benedicimus vos in itinere The policemen scratched their heads, uncertain what to say, Then slowly tipped their hats and walked politely on their way. One Saturday we ventured out, our habits neat and pressed, And stumbled on a neon sign: Starlight casino Fest. Sister Joan whispered, “Surely someone here needs a prayer,” Sister Meg grinned slyly and said, “And maybe luck to spare!” Inside the lights were dazzling, music bright and bold, Sister Ruth marched straight ahead to a shiny slot of gold. She crossed herself dramatically and pulled the lever slow— When it chimed, she yelled, “A MIRACLE! LET’S GO!” Benedicimus aleam… non ut vincamus, sed ut gaudeamus People stared in disbelief, but we had our excuse: “We blessed these sinful chips, to keep them free from abuse!” We bless the hops, we bless the herb, We bless the dice — no need to be perturbed! Benedictio nunnarum semper cum vobis We smoke, we laugh, we spin, we tease, We praise the Lord — forgive us, sinners please. Gaudium nostrum fortitudo est Monday, we blessed the beer, and cookies flew in the air, Tuesday, we rode the carousel without a single care. Wednesday, we danced in the chapel, incense blazing high, Thursday, we baked holy cakes that left us cracking smiles. Friday, the policemen came, but left with a grateful smile, Saturday, the casino lights had tempted us a while. Sunday, we gathered back, our habits slightly frayed, And whispered to the Lord, “Forgive our week of play!” Mischia sancta semper vobiscum

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