Keeping the choir happy

You know me, I would do it .
In my never-ending, and utterly undirected and thus shamefully scatter-shot and mostly useless research , I learn that in medieval times the director of the papal scola would put on a pair of horns, bedeck himself with laurel wreaths and dance in front of the Lateran, singing out:

Jaritan, jaritan, jariariasti; raphayn, jercoin, jariariasti

(Don't you adore the internet?)
This appeals on several levels.
One: I am an attention hound.
And b) (homage to Paul Reiser,) it would probably tickle my choir no end.
I could get the adults to sing waaaay past the Nativity of J the B.
And I could get the Scola Scelati to do anything I wanted, I imagine, it's like a middle school principal pledging to lay one on a pig. Bribe the kids into good behavior with the promise of a future humiliating act on the part of an adult in authority.