a few years back, at Annual Session, Bridge City Friends Meeting sang a song. it was a parody of a favorite hymn of our meeting. It was printed in Friends Journal, whose editor was on hand and heard it. Imagine my surprise, this last summer, at FGC, when I heard it performed by a real singing group.
They have changed some of the verses around but they very kindly contacted us in the last day or so to see if we would give them permission to record it. We said yes. Here are the original lyrics:
How Can I Keep From Snoring?
(Parody lyrics by Gayle M_____ and Timothy Travis, Bridge City Friends Meeting, Portland, OR)
Time passes on in endless drone, just like life's lamentations.
I hear no real or fancied hymn, to aid my concentration.
Oh, for some tumult or some strife, or for some music roaring,
Or any signal from my soul. How can I keep from snoring?
The hour has stalled, it's stuck right here, my mind is in a fog now.
I need caffeine, that much is clear, or I'll sleep like a dog now.
No ministry to wake me up, no spirit speaks, it’s boring.
Someone please poke me in the ribs. How can I keep from snoring?
I bite my lip and tap my foot, I'm hoping for a surge here.
My eyelids droop, my head nods down, I cannot fight the urge here.
This hard ol' chair, not hard enough, with drowsiness I'm warring.
Open the door, let in some breeze. How can I keep from snoring?
I lift my eyes, Friends standing now, we're shaking hands and greeting.
I'm wide awake and conscious now, again a part of Meeting.
That bit of sleep restored my soul, it shook me from my mooring.
At last at peace, I'm standing here. No more in fear of snoring!
ps...if you don't recognize the original song...
3 comments:
A New Song....
Le manifest d' Jean Maynard A translation of a Quebecois canoe song
Tune Zigulon, words Lorcan Otway (Plain in the city)/ Amanda Gareis (Best stuff but plain) /Eugenie Gilmore-Otway
Second First Day's come again,
the worshipful time when
We Quakers all sit down
and pass the thoughts around
to show we're all profoundon
solid Quaker ground
Let's minute this this way
On Business Meeting Day
we're all on solid ground
and being so profound
never block another's way
everybody has their say
While the clock ticked away, ticked away, ticked away
the clock ticked away just past mid day
A young Quaker near the door,
said why don't we feed the poor?
and with a smile sat down
Let's minute this this way
On Business Meeting Day
we're all on solid ground
and being so profound
never block another's way
everybody has their say
A Friend near the door
Suggests we feed the poor
While the clock ticked away, ticked away, ticked away
the clock ticked away, an hour past mid day
An older Friend arose,
and dusted off his clothes
taking off his hat
Said, with so many poor in need
who are we going to feed?
Let's minute this this way
On Business Meeting Day
we're all on solid ground
and being so profound
never block other's way
everybody has their say
A Friend near the door
Suggests we feed the poor
with so many poor in need
who are we going to feed?
While the clock ticked away, ticked away, ticked away
the clock ticked away two hours past mid day
Another Friend agreed
with so many poor to feed
when we mean so well,
We could give the poor some soup
cause soup is so easy to scoop
Let's minute this this way
On Business Meeting Day
we're all on solid ground
and being so profound
never block another's way
everybody has their say
A Friend near the door
Suggests we feed the poor
with so many poor in need
who are we going to feed?
We may give the poor some soup
cause its so easy to scoop
While the clock ticked away, ticked away, ticked away
the clock ticked away, three hours past mid day
A weighty Friend began,
to speak and pound his hand
in an enlightened way
They'll eat in the name of Christ
And wouldn't that be nice?
Let's minute this this way
On Business Meeting Day
we're all on solid ground
and being so profound
never block another's way
everybody has their say
A Friend near the door
Suggests we feed the poor
with so many poor in need
who are we going to feed?
We may give the poor some soup
cause its so easy to scoop
feeding in the name of Christ
some Friends think it would be nice
While the clock ticked away, ticked away, ticked away
the clock ticked away, four hours past mid day
A Quaker rolled her eyes,
and looking towards the skies
cried Jesus Christ again!
It's enough the poor will eat
next you'll have us washing feet!
Let's minute this this way
On Business Meeting Day
we're all on solid ground
and being so profound
never block another's way
everybody has their say
A Friend near the door
Suggests we feed the poor
with so many poor in need
who are we going to feed?
We may give the poor some soup
its so easy to scoop
feeding in the name of Christ
some Friends think it would be nice
It's enough the poor will eat
We need not wash their feet
While the clock ticked away, ticked away, ticked away
the clock ticked away, five hours past mid day
This minute's not quite right!
I don't want to start a fight
but I am led to say
it's no committee its a group
and a group can't dole out soup
we need a clerk and all
a committee or we'll fall
into ranter anarchy
and that's not the way to be
Let's minute this this way
On Business Meeting Day
we're all on solid ground
and being so profound
never block other's way
everybody has their say
A Friend near the door
Suggests we feed the poor
with so many poor in need
who are we going to feed?
We may give the poor some soup
soup is so easy to scoop
feeding in the name of Christ
some Friends believe it would be nice
It's enough the poor will eat
We need not wash their feet
a committee not a group
a group can't dole out soup
a committee we will name
though the membership's the same
While the clock ticked away, ticked away, ticked away
the clock ticked away, six hours past mid day
A lawyer rose to say,
we can't do this anyway
It's just a matter of risk
what are we going to do?
If we poison them they'll sue
said a Friendly helpful guy
we can feed the poor some pie
and yet still the poor may die
if they choke on Quaker pie!
The only way to solve this mess
let the poor to starve I guess
then it wont be Friendly chow
that will kill them anyhow
and if the poor complain
they must really bear the blame
I don't want to seem to hate
But I wont facilitate
Until an open way
the poor will wait another day
the poor will always be
and I must take care of me
Let's minute this this way
On Business Meeting Day
we're all on solid ground
and being so profound
never block another's way
everybody has their say
We feel for the poor
A way will open we are sure
While the clock ticked away, ticked away, ticked away
the clock ticked away, till the end of day
The Soup Kitchen's going strong
As we finish up this song
in that old Quaker way
Back bencher's made some stew
in a borrowed pot or two
and Now all the Quakes
smile and trade hand shakes
for being very good
and doing all they should
And are feeling very grand
for the poor are well in hand
And the minute it will say will say
The meeting found a way
and the clock will tick away tick away tick away
the clock will tick away till the end of day
Classic.
gmc
I have never commented on a comment to this blog. It's like Pilate said: "What I have written, I have written."
But I think it's more to myself, than it is to you, that I want to repeat something I know you know: We are all going home, Man, and for each of us who cannot walk, when the time comes, there will be plenty of us to step up to do the carrying.
Community is community; integrity integrity. There is only equality on that Wall, and there is charmony between those who carried those names and those of us who see ourselves reflected in that shiny black stone as we read and remember them.
They sell soap and Chevvies and candidates with it but they only cheapen themselves and the more flags they wave the cheaper they get and the more dear the cost.
It's just that simple.
"I’ll be waiting on the far side banks of Jordan
I’ll be sitting drawing pictures in the sand
And when I see you coming,
I will rise up with a shout
And come running through the shallow water
Reaching for your hand."
A. Krause
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