Church choir humor
albedoblue is to blame for introducing these songs to dr_zrfq's notice. My Google-fu did not fail me, and now I have reasonably complete lyrics for them.
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee
(sung to Holy, Holy, Holy)
by Christopher Raible
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee,
Praise the strength of coffee.
Early in the morn we rise with thoughts of only thee.
Served fresh or reheated,
Dark by thee defeated,
Brewed black by perk or drip or instantly.
Though all else we scoff we
Come to church for coffee;
If we're late to congregate, we come in time for thee.
Coffee our one ritual,
Drinking it habitual,
Brewed black by perk or drip instantly.
Coffee the communion
Of our Uni-Union,
Symbol of our sacred ground, our one necessity.
Feel the holy power
At our coffee hour,
Brewed black by perk or drip or instantly.
IMMORAL, IMPOSSIBLE, GOD ONLY KNOWS
(Tune: St. Denio)
1. Immoral, impossible, God only knows
how tenors and basses, sopranos, altos
at service on Sunday are rarely the same
as those who on Thursday to choir practice came.
2. Unready, unable to sight-read the notes,
nor counting, nor blending, they tighten their throats.
the descant so piercing is soaring above,
the melody only a mother could love.
3. They have a director, but no-one knows why,
no-one in the choir deigns to turn him an eye.
It's clear by his waving, he wants them to look,
but each of them stands with his nose in the book.
4. Despite the offences, the music rings out.
The folks in the pews are enraptured, no doubt.
Their faces are blissful, their thoughts are so deep,
but it is no wonder, for they are asleep.
Notes:
* Original, verse 1, by Austin Lovelace.
* Verses 2-4 added by Ron Hodges (choir of St. Mark’s, Palo Alto, California, USA) for the church’s 50th anniversary in November 1998.
ChoirMaster’s Lament
Immoral, impossible, God only knows
How tenors and basses, sopranos, altos
At service on Sunday are rarely the same
As those who on Wednesday to choir practice came.
They come; then depart, as each fanciful whim
Prevents us from practicing even one hymn.
“What am I to do?” the director laments,
“Their presence - then absence - holds me in suspense!”
Unready, unable to sight-read the notes,
Nor counting, nor blending, they tighten their throats:
The descant so piercing is soaring above
A melody only a mother could love.
They have a director, but one wonders why:
No one in the choir deigns turn him an eye.
It’s clear by his flailing, he wants them to look,
But each singer slouches with nose in the book.
The organist plays with deliberate poise
While using Full Organ to drown out their noise.
His long years of training have all been for nought;
This choir can’t improve: what is this they have wrought?
Despite the offenses, the music rings out.
The folks in the pews are enraptured, no doubt.
Their faces are blissful, their thoughts appear deep,
But it is no wonder, for they are asleep.
Stanzas 1, 3, 4 & 6
David Bohn, Composer, Organist, Conductor [I leave this attribution due to the changes in wording from the earlier version -m.]
Stanzas 2 & 5
George Morten, Organist, Pipe Organ Technician
(And did I mention "GIP"?)
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee
(sung to Holy, Holy, Holy)
by Christopher Raible
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee,
Praise the strength of coffee.
Early in the morn we rise with thoughts of only thee.
Served fresh or reheated,
Dark by thee defeated,
Brewed black by perk or drip or instantly.
Though all else we scoff we
Come to church for coffee;
If we're late to congregate, we come in time for thee.
Coffee our one ritual,
Drinking it habitual,
Brewed black by perk or drip instantly.
Coffee the communion
Of our Uni-Union,
Symbol of our sacred ground, our one necessity.
Feel the holy power
At our coffee hour,
Brewed black by perk or drip or instantly.
IMMORAL, IMPOSSIBLE, GOD ONLY KNOWS
(Tune: St. Denio)
1. Immoral, impossible, God only knows
how tenors and basses, sopranos, altos
at service on Sunday are rarely the same
as those who on Thursday to choir practice came.
2. Unready, unable to sight-read the notes,
nor counting, nor blending, they tighten their throats.
the descant so piercing is soaring above,
the melody only a mother could love.
3. They have a director, but no-one knows why,
no-one in the choir deigns to turn him an eye.
It's clear by his waving, he wants them to look,
but each of them stands with his nose in the book.
4. Despite the offences, the music rings out.
The folks in the pews are enraptured, no doubt.
Their faces are blissful, their thoughts are so deep,
but it is no wonder, for they are asleep.
Notes:
* Original, verse 1, by Austin Lovelace.
* Verses 2-4 added by Ron Hodges (choir of St. Mark’s, Palo Alto, California, USA) for the church’s 50th anniversary in November 1998.
ChoirMaster’s Lament
Immoral, impossible, God only knows
How tenors and basses, sopranos, altos
At service on Sunday are rarely the same
As those who on Wednesday to choir practice came.
They come; then depart, as each fanciful whim
Prevents us from practicing even one hymn.
“What am I to do?” the director laments,
“Their presence - then absence - holds me in suspense!”
Unready, unable to sight-read the notes,
Nor counting, nor blending, they tighten their throats:
The descant so piercing is soaring above
A melody only a mother could love.
They have a director, but one wonders why:
No one in the choir deigns turn him an eye.
It’s clear by his flailing, he wants them to look,
But each singer slouches with nose in the book.
The organist plays with deliberate poise
While using Full Organ to drown out their noise.
His long years of training have all been for nought;
This choir can’t improve: what is this they have wrought?
Despite the offenses, the music rings out.
The folks in the pews are enraptured, no doubt.
Their faces are blissful, their thoughts appear deep,
But it is no wonder, for they are asleep.
Stanzas 1, 3, 4 & 6
David Bohn, Composer, Organist, Conductor [I leave this attribution due to the changes in wording from the earlier version -m.]
Stanzas 2 & 5
George Morten, Organist, Pipe Organ Technician
(And did I mention "GIP"?)