Thursday, March the 30th, 2006

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A Hymn

(To the tune of Bring Me Your Winding-Sheet, Oh Mother Of Mine)

Cold and dark is this awful night, as I shiver in my shed. The Lord He has forsaken me and deprived me of my bed. I have no pies nor pastries to shovel down my gob. Oh the Lord He has forsaken me. All I can do is sob.

I weep in my allotment shed, I weep until the dawn. I curse the very buttercups upon the village lawn. The Lord He has forsaken me and I am so forlorn. I wail and gnash my rotting teeth that I was ever born.

My name is Leo Sayer, I am short, with frizzy hair. I sit here in my wooden shed upon a wooden chair. I curse the fact that I share my name with a singer of pop pap, and then I spill my flask of boiling tea into my lap.

The Lord He has forsaken me, all I can do is whine. O Lord God Almighty, please send me a sign. Please stop people thinking that I'm the singer Leo S, the small-of-stature minstrel who got me in this mess.

He fled to the Antipodes, or so I have been told. He moved across the globe because his records undersold. It seems the Lord forsook him too, but that is only right. I sob and wail in my shed on this dark and awful night.

DETOURS : Muggletonian Celestial Prints … Rapture Ready … Nice Cup Of Tea And A Sit Down