Bad hymns 22

The judges of the Eccles Bad Hymn award are delighted to welcome Fr Frank Andersen, creator of the Galilee Song, which you can also hear here if you can stand it. This is the sort of hymn that goes down well with a lot of people, since it is only vaguely Christian. It is mostly about the mental state of the person singing the song, rather than about God.

Is it a hymn? Is it a sea shanty?

Eccles: Now, Father Frank, why not lie down on this couch and sing the first verse of the song to me?

Fr Andersen:

Deep within my heart, I feel voices whispering to me.
Words that I can't understand; meanings I can't clearly hear!
Calling me to follow close, lest I leave myself behind!
Calling me to walking into evening shadows one more time!

E: Yes, you do seem to have severe psychological problems, Father. I would say it's like paranoia, only in reverse. You think you're following someone, but you don't know who or why?

Eccles interviews Father Andersen.

FA: Perhaps I need help, Eccles. Following someone such as Christ for a good reason is one thing, but I find myself following random people in the street, and don't know why.

So I leave my boats behind!
Leave them on familiar shores!
Set my heart upon the deep!
Follow you again, my Lord!

E: Oh yes, that's the chorus, isn't it. Well at least you're following someone called Lord, who seems to have something to do with boats. Would that be anyone in particular?

Why does this man Andersen keep following me?

FA: Well, it is supposed to be Christ. But the abandoned boats are mine, so it could also be Mohammed. Or Krishna. Or Buddha. Or Boris Johnson. I wanted to give people a choice of deities.

E: Very ecumenical. And it goes so well with any musical accompaniment, such as guitars, zithers, kazoos or Balinese nose-flutes. Sing me the next verse.

FA:

In my memories, I know how you send familiar rains
falling gently on my days, dancing patterns on my pain!
And I need to learn once more in the fortress of my mind,
to believe in falling rain as I travel deserts dry!

E: Tell me more about these pains, Father. Headaches is it? Migraines? They seem to be giving you delusions, too. You see, as a matter of fact, deserts dry don't have falling rain. That's why they're dry.

Oh will the rain never stop?

FA: Sigh... I suppose you're right, Eccles. What do you recommend?

E: Take two aspirins, have a lie down, and don't try to write any more hymns, they just upset you.

FA: Eccles, thank you very much.

E: My pleasure. That'll be 100 guineas plus VAT. Next patient, please!

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Previous entries for the Eccles Bad Hymn Award:

Lord of the Dance.    Shine, Jesus, shine.    Enemy of apathy.    Walk in the Light.
Kum Ba Yah.    Follow me.    God's Spirit is in my heart.    Imagine.    Alleluia Ch-ch.
It ain't necessarily so.    I, the Lord of sea and sky.    Colours of day.    The red flag.
Go, the Mass is ended.    I watch the sunrise.    Bind us together, Lord.    Our god reigns.
My way.    Ding-Dong! The witch is dead.    If I were a butterfly.
Journeys ended, journeys begun.

New Hymns 4

For today's master-class, we have invited the lovely Christina Rossetti here, so that we can discuss her carol In the Bleak Midwinter, and attempt to rewrite it for modern worship.

Christina Rossetti, on learning that she needs to rewrite her hymn.

E: So, Miss Rossetti, there are a few problems with this hymn. The first verse, for example, is probably not historically correct: Christ was almost certainly not born in midwinter, and the weather was mild enough for shepherds to abide in the fields all night.

C: O Eccles, you're not going to make me sacrifice such a poetic verse? I could rewrite it I suppose:

It was quite a nice day,
Not too hot or cold,
They had lovely weather
In the days of old.

E: Yes, it's a pity we couldn't have kept the "frosty wind made moan" bit, and all joined in with a chorus of "Moan moan moan," but historical accuracy is more important. Perhaps you could make the song a bit more dramatic?

C: I thought of continuing:

Rain had fallen, rain on rain,
Rain on rain,
But the shepherd's clothes were
Drying out again.

It's a man's life in the sheep-farming industry.

E: Yes, that's fine. Now you have several verses about mangers, oxen, asses, even camels...

C: Camels are not really midwinter animals, I know. I thought of making them yetis instead. Are yetis Biblical? I suppose not.

A yeti reacts angrily to being told that it is not Biblical.

E: Well, we've got rid of the midwinter theme, anyway. Let's move on to the last verse, which is all about giving Christmas presents.

C: "If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb."

E: Yes, and "If I were a wise man, I would do my part." What is this mysterious "part?"

C: I was stuck for a rhyme for "heart," there, Eccles.

E: Now, it's good that the last verse is about us - that's the guiding spirit behind modern hymns - so let's see if we can make it even more egotistical, with a verse about Christmas shopping.

C: I have it:

I've been Christmas shopping, poor as I am:
For my auntie Jane, a year's supply of spam.

For my uncle Fred, a tasty rhubarb tart...

And for dear old Gran a piece of modern art.

E: Christina Rossetti, thank you very much. They'll be singing this version in all the churches this Christmas, I have no doubt about it.

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Earlier masterclasses: John Henry Newman    King David    Charles Wesley

Song from Twelfth Night

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

Or, as portrayed by the Seven Ages of Man...

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When that I was but a little boy called Knowles,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
They found my childish essays full of holes,
For the rain it raineth every day.

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When as a young man, known to all as Tim,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I told Obama what I thought of him,
For the rain it raineth every day.

Sir Henry Morton Stanley in Africa

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Then as a young-ish nerd by name of Tom,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I split infinitives with great aplomb,
For the rain it raineth every day.

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When that I was but a balding chap called Dan,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I spoke and all the Europeans ran,
For the rain it raineth every day.

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When that I was an addiction-crazy Dame,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I wrote six blogs essentially the same,
For the rain it raineth every day.

The Fix: How book-plugging is invading our lives and changing our world

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When that I was but an aged man called Norm,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
My trolls were lefties from the lower form,
For the rain it raineth every day.

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When that I was but a basket-case called Lean,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I wrote no facts, just propaganda green,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A nuclear power station. (Are you sure you've got that right, Geoffrey?)