She arch so good, I call her Archbishop
I deek so good she call me a Deacon
I asked what way she wouldn't take it she told me there was none
So I conclude her devotion level is Nun
What about ratting me out to the constabulary?
She said she cannot, so that's my Canon
And, baby, what if you've got to abort?
Her reply left me uttering slowly in a whisper
That she's my Abbot
She reaches down there and grab I
So I revere her like my Rabbi
All my boxes she check, so that's my Sheikh
And finally would you let me lead the way, Ma'am?
I'll leave her reply to your imagination but if you've learnt anything so far you'd know it somehow leads to the word "Imam".