Seventy-two now   and as mad as they come,   but even so, now on occasion   there's a few come and help   Put a crucifix, a portico just like there is at the white house   but the stain still needs more glass   I think more of red than I could see anything else.   It's one of the arguments in the cafe   for small talk of a town.   I'm no engineer they say   I'm no architect they say   as if they don't already argue enough   for it's such a lonely order that I've taken on my own   that in a house you helped to build   I suppose you're guaranteed a room   how should it matter being better held together?   The rains have proved as only they can more for faith than mortar   I want it left to the diocese   but that idiot that a bishop be so ungrateful   like it was some dislocated eyesore   so near and not to see it finished.   The holy college seeks only to adjust it   and put out of place my columns but no   they wouldn't be found dead helping me dig out the crypt   I didn't need elevations then   I'm not looking for them now   not for all the small talk in a town   Neither sane nor fool enough is the good word going round   I built the cathedral almost on my own   It stands in a house you helped to build   You're guaranteed of a place to be