To the tune of Irving Berlin’s song, Sisters, from the movie White Christmas.

Shrinkage, shrinkage
Looks like the Church is suffering shrinkage
They always bragged the Church had grown, but now
Complete statistics are never shown 

Lying, hiding 
The Church’s numbers we aren’t buying
Now, if an apostle says that the Church has grown
We know an apostle who needs to atone 

Count the apostates
The declining birth rates
And the excommunications
Add them all together
Growth claims become untethered
In light of that negative sum, a-hum 

Attendance, falling
Getting hard to fill all the callings
Especially, those that demand the priesthood of a worthy man 

Women will get the priesthood
Only when there aren’t enough men who could
And with the rate of shrinkage, the prophet will soon be a woman 
Young families leaving
Means the Church is bleeding
And this will only spread 

And in most cases 
Where saints leave with no traces 
They’re counted long after they’re dead, oh ya. 
Preventing shrinkage
The Brethren know that there’s linkage
Between the prophet taking members in his firm hand 

Lord, help the prophet
Who doesn’t follow this posit
Members must be excited and prophets should do it firsthand 

Shrinkage can be reversed with a guiding hand 

Poem by P. Luke Firestoker

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