1. |
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Many people around the world are bereft of the beautiful tradition of the bank holiday, originally introduced by the visionary British banker and dog-literacy advocate John Lubbock in 1871, to protect the poor sweet banks from potentially losing precious shillings by closing when others stayed open in the willy-nilly regional holiday system of ye olden tymes.
Featuring the vocal talents of members of Quiet Marauder, My Name Is Ian, Francesca's Word Salad, Prizefighter, Mock Deer, Alex and the Christopher Hale Band, Randolph's Leap, and Susie Asado - in order of appearance:
Kadesha Drija
Ian Williams
Francesca Dimech
Simon Read
Jack, Annie, and Ben Walker
Laura Capaldi
Rick Damiani
Alex Hale
Adam Ross
Josepha Conrad
-----
It’s a holiday
A general holiday
It’s time to leave the office
Think of all the Fortnite we will play
Some holidays are for Christians
Some for Muslims or for Jews
But today’s a special day
For all of them and for you too
But press pause and think of the sad ones
Who don’t get to celebrate
No barbecues with the in-laws
No seaside trips to take
They don’t know what they’re missing
Because their ways are foreign
They celebrate the days when
Dead explorers went exploring
Or for saints grotesquely murdered
They make a holy hullaballoo
Speaking of God, thank him or her that it’s
Them instead of you
There’ll be no day-drunks on the Continent this Monday afternoon
Their only task will be to work the day away
No pubs or fun for them, their weekend’s the normal length
Are they even aware it’s a bank holiday?
Mom, dad, where do bank holidays come from?
Wait, I thought you said you gave him The Talk years ago!
Well, you see, son, back in the Industrial Revolution, each region had their own local holidays, but the banks were so afraid that if they closed at all on a weekday they’d go bust…
But a baron and a banker named John Lubbock
Proposed Bank Holidays in the golden year of 1871
He also tried to teach his standard poodle how to read
At least his first idea worked, now there’s more fun for everyone
I think it’s great to celebrate our history
And I hate to spoil the magic and the mirth
But in terms of public holidays, we’re really not so great
we’ve the second-least of any country on the planet Earth
Yes but the Germans don’t have a day off at the end of August
Aber wir haben Christi und Maria Himmelfahrt
Do Cambodians have days to celebrate? Really, twenty-eight?
But I bet their holidays just can’t be as good as ours!
And while the Popey places may get more than we do
They have to spend them listening to some creepy priest
Eight a year suits me just fine, (in Scotland we get nine!)
And less time off means a strong economy!
These Latvians seem confused that we’re in Riga
Celebrating Gary’s stag in our special way
We’ll drink and puke and sleep, these flights were so damn cheap
Are they even aware it’s a bank holiday?
Are they even aware it’s a bank holiday?
No more work!***
Today’s a day we call Bank Holiday!
No more work!
Tell your friends about bank holidays!
No more work!
Sing a song about bank holidays!
No more work!
Everyone should have bank holidays!
No more work!
Bank bank bank bank bank bank holidays!
No more work!
Tell your mom about bank holiday!
-----
***You may think you recognize the melody and phrasing of the outro, but I assure you, it's entirely original and quite immune to legal action.*
*Love u, Sir Geldof!
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2. |
Friday the 13th
02:45
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An ode to one of the most underrated and unfairly maligned days of the Gregorian calendar, a day which I think we should really start celebrating properly.
-----
One Friday night in Asgard
The gods were feeling hale and hearty
Twelve of them were drinking
Then Loki crashed the party
Odin said we’ve only got twelve chairs
You’ll have to sit it out
So Loki killed his favourite kid
And this superstition came about
But some say it was Jesus
Noshing on his Final Feast
With eleven of his bestest buds
And Judas made thirteen
It was a Maundy Thursday
Half-price wing night in Jerusalem
They stayed up till Friday morning
And you know what happened then
But Stevie Wonder told me
Superstition ain’t the way
And I’d take Stevie over popes
and Norse historians any day
So you can keep your Christmas,
Your Eid and Halloween
Keep Rosh Hashannah if you wanna
Leave me Friday the 13th
Some people argue the fear started
Only in 1307
When Phil the 4th of France
Said these Knights Templar, let’s behead ‘em
And it was a Friday the 13th
When this supposedly went down
But be careful learning history
From the novels of Dan Brown
Then the 1980s came along
An age of culture, charm and class
Like Jason Voorhees with his machete
And his stupid goalie mask
And like all the slasher franchises
It seemed it would never end
But Friday the 13th films?
They only finished twelve of them!
And Stevie Wonder told me
Superstition ain’t the way
And I’ll take Stevie over knights
and serial killers any day
Yes you can keep your Christmas,
Your Eid and Halloween
Keep Rosh Hashannah if you wanna
Leave me Friday the 13th
But you know, I didn’t always
believe these things I’ve told ya
In fact I used to suffer from
paraskevidekatriaphobia
But then in high school all my friends
Decided they were goths
They loved Friday the Thirteenth a lot
Or should I say a loth
Each time it came around
They’d light thirteen tall black candles
We’d watch Buffy and drink absinthe
In our black flannel pajamles
We’d limbo under ladders
And smash mirrors on the floor
I must admit I don’t know why
We don’t do that anymore
‘Cause Stevie Wonder told me
Superstition ain’t the way
And I’ll take Stevie over popes
and Norse historians any day
So you can keep your Christmas,
Your Eid and Halloween
Keep Rosh Hashannah if you wanna
Leave me Friday the 13th
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3. |
Black Metal Friday
04:18
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Note to black metal fans: yes, Euronymous really did play a sunburst Les Paul. Seems weird, I know.
-----
One dreary November I was down in my dungeon
And by dungeon I mean the basement in my parents’ place
I was sitting around with my friends Dave and Kevin
Better known as Dementor and Kevin Skull-face
We had a band practice scheduled but unfortunately
Dave’s guitar had been stolen from his Honda Fit
It was a BC Rich Warlock and Dave was heartbroken
But Kevin was like, c’mon, Dave, get on with it
He said put on your big boy pants, put on your corpse paint
Let’s go down to Guitar Centre, see what’s in stock
So Dave dried his tears and we got out our trench-coats
We were ready for shopping, we were ready to rock
We stopped by the graveyard to take a few selfies
Then got to the store and saw to our delight
An inflatable man dancing next to a sign
That said Black Friday Sale! Huge Savings Inside!
Why can’t every Black Friday be a Black Metal Friday
Great deals and great darkness just go hand in hand
Why can’t every Black Friday be a Black Metal Friday
Burn a church! Buy an iPad! Start a black metal band
Dave surprised us by buying a sunburst Les Paul
Deeply discounted ‘cause of a couple warped frets
Dave said it was the same model played by Euronymous
Before his old bandmate stabbed him to death
We had only come in for a guitar for Dementor
But then Kevin Skullface spied a brand new bass amp
With this thousand-watt head he said our fans will be dead
With this much bottom end I will crush them like ants
I was about to point out that we’d only played two shows
And a battle of the bands which we’d unfairly lost
Then I saw a double kick pedal in polished black metal
I’d play blast beats twice as fastly at 50% off
On top of it everything was zero-percent financing
It all made us feel powerful and evil and frugal
With these deals and this gear we’d be a real band to fear
Like Rotting Christ mixed with Burzum, but even more brutal
Why can’t every Black Friday be a Black Metal Friday
Great deals and great evil just go hand in hand
Why can’t every Black Friday be a Black Metal Friday
Burn a church! Buy an iPad! Start a black metal band
Why can’t every Black Friday be a Black Metal Friday
Trampling fellow shoppers and listening to Mayhem
Why can’t every Black Friday be a Black Metal Friday
Hail discounts, hail darkness, hail savings, hail Satan
|
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4. |
||||
Note to pedants: yes, I am aware that the use of "ye" in the title is grammatically incorrect, since it is not an objective but rather a subjective pronoun. But the rest of the title is also incorrect, for reasons that will become obvious in the song. So don't @ me, or I.
Original hymn melody likely written by a disheveled monk living on a diet of lichen and beer somewhere in northern England during the Dark Ages. Lyrics by me. Thanks to Gudrun for suggesting this one!
------
God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay
I trust you did not meet a jam upon the motorway
We’d heard there was a nasty crash
Somewhere north of Leicester
In any case you’re here in plenty of time, plenty of time
Sound check is not ’til shortly after five
Oh come in, Merry Gentlemen, your green room’s well-appointed
Havarti cheese and M&Ms, you won’t be disappointed
We could not find the type of wine listed on your rider
So we picked up a box of zinfandel, zinfandel
Four litres of generic zinfandel
On the poster “Merry Gentlemen” hath been spelled incorrectly
Our poster guy assumed that it was merry with an “ie.”
And “gentleman” he hath inscribed, though clearly ye are plural
But we’ve changed it on the Facebook event page, event page
On the website and on Facebook it’s been changed
Oh pardon, Merry Gentlemen, just checking in to see
How much longer you expect that your soundcheck doth needeth be?
Doors are at half eight and we’ve got three supports this evening
On account of sluggish advance ticket sales, ticket sales
Could be the rugby’s on, it’s Scotland vs. Wales
Yes, thank you Merry Gentlemen, and here’s your guarantee
May I say I’ve never heard a lute plucked with such vicious speed
The crowd was sparse but those who came they surely did enjoy it
Medieval metal hasn’t really caught on here, but have no fear
We’ll do better with a weekend date next year
|
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5. |
||||
Covid-19 has separated some of us, but in other cases it's forced us together in much more intimate circumstances, and for a far longer time, than we ever imagined possible. Merry Christmas.
-----
Jingle jingle jingle jingle jingle jingle jingle jing
That’s the jingle jangle of the ring of keys that dangle on dad’s belt so we know it’s him
He’s jingling his keys completely absentmindedly, Raptors reruns on TV
Grumbling and mumbling something something something the game isn’t the same as it used to be
And mom has gone downstairs to try to find the extra chairs so everyone can eat together
Not counting all the kids and hey nobody ever did there’s something like a dozen, plus Heather
And Heather being new she wasn’t sure just what to do, went down the basement stairs to help
Mom was smoking menthols by the dryer, whimpering and crying, "please someone get me out!"
Hey, what a beautiful winter’s day
Now everybody’s home for the holidays
Oh say, we’re family and we’re here to stay
Yes everybody’s home for the holidays
Bill is in the kitchen trying to pitch in with the dishes wishing he and Brad had had the sense
To stay back in Nova Scotia where the cases are much lower and everything is less intense
But no no no no no Brad just had to go to Ontario before the snow began
Now they’re stuck out in the suburbs and Bill is scrubbing something off the always-sticky non-stick pan
And Jane is still complaining ‘bout the lady on the train who was coughing all the way from Guelph
Opening a bag of frozen curly fries she says she wouldn’t be surprised if she had it now herself
Just then the doorbell rings “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and look, Kim brought Jimmy along
How’d she pick such a winner? Everybody knows that dinner will be Jimmy’s jibber-jabber about Q Anon
Hey, what a beautiful winter’s day
Now everybody’s home for the holidays
Oh say, we’re family and we’re here to stay
Yes everybody’s home for the holidays
Katherine and Christian just finished school by distance and they tell everyone how much it sucked
Grandpa asks if they are able to use proper English at the table and Katherine says "Grandpa, shut up!"
She talks about the cops that killed a guy outside a shop because they didn’t like the colour of his skin
"Now Katherine, all lives matter!" yells Kim’s Jimmy at her; mom storms off to passive-aggressively put the turkey in
|
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6. |
||||
This was originally written for the Zunior.com compilation "Christmas Candy" in 2013.
-----
Remember when being young and dumb was our modus operandi?
Your name was Carmelita, but I called you Caramel Candy
When I heard you were coming home for the holidays
I had one of those cheesy soft-focus TV flashbacks
I remembered all those years ago
When you kissed me in the December snow
And we laid down beside each other on the railroad tracks
You were sweeter than Mansichewitz wine back in those days
And I haven't lost my sweet tooth since you've been around
You used to spin me like a broken dreidel,
I was Douglas, you were Streep - the attraction was fatal
And ever since there's been a you-shaped hole in this town
Eight days and eight nights, eight days and eight nights
Candy, pour the brandy and light the lights
Eight days and eight nights, eight days and eight nights
You're here for eight whole days and eight whole nights
Don't pay attention to mom's questions about your ex-husband
And please try your hardest to ignore grandpa's twitchy eye
After we light the candles, finish dinner and load the dishwasher
Let's go for a walk and sneak a cigarette like old times
When you smile like you used to smile when you were always smiling
And when I look in your eyes it feels like no time has passed
I'm sorry I'm only half-paying attention to your story about your dad's dementia
Whatever the reason, I'm just happy you came back
For eight days and eight nights, eight days and eight nights
Candy, pour the brandy and light the lights
Eight days and eight nights, eight days and eight nights
You're here for eight whole days and eight whole nights
|
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7. |
La Tomatina
02:22
|
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La Tomatina is the holiday I've never experienced in real life that is #1 on my list for post-pandemic times. Who wants to come with me to Buñol, Spain, and throw tomatoes at each other?
-----
If you deplane in Barcelona
Todas las personas
They’ll tell you the very misma cosa:
Our town is overrun
With turistas seeking sun
And gaudy Gaudi trinkets by the tonne!
So we highly reccomendya
Head south down to Valencia
Especialmente Buñol
Where you can verdadamente lose control
¡Es La Tomatina
Estamos en la calle
Tirando tomates
No sabemos por qué!
Nobody knows for sure
How La Tomatina started
But in 1945
When a tomato cart uncarted
Instead of bringing the tomatoes
To the cart or to a bucket
The people said let’s chuck em
At each other, because fuck it
There’s not so many chances
To be silly under fascism
So let’s have a tomato fight
A fruity saucy baptism
¡Es La Tomatina
Estamos en la calle
Tirando tomates
No sabemos por qué!
No historian is certain
That you can take this to el banco
But it’s rumoured that one man
Who was no fan was General Franco
He said all this tomato chaos
Does not make a buena vista
It’s something more befitting
Those dirty anarquistas
And even though Dear Frankie
Had had all the leftists shot
He still thought La Tomatina
Might be a commie plot
¡Pero es La Tomatina
Estamos en la calle
Tirando tomates
No sabemos por qué!
But now Franco’s just a lump
Of bones and teeth inside a casket
And millions of tomatoes
Are ripe and ready for the fascists
Should they venture to Buñol
On the last miércoles of August
They’ll soon be covered head to toe
In tomatoes, this I promise
But everyone’s a target,
It’s difícil to explain
But when you’re in this part of Spain
You’ll hear the old refrain:
¡Es La Tomatina
Estamos en la calle
Tirando tomates
No sabemos por qué!
|
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8. |
Marriage to the Sea
02:29
|
|||
Like any thalassocracy, the city state of Venice attached a great deal of importance to the sea, and has made a big deal about it for at least the last thousand years or so. But in the 12th century, an annual celebration of the sea took on a somewhat more romantic tone, and since then it’s been known as the “Marriage of the Sea,” in which the mayor of Venice rides a golden boat and throws a ring into the water, wedding the city to the sea for another year. In this song I imagined myself as a particularly amorous Venetian mayor. The details of the Marriage of the Sea are so incredibly wonderful (including the blessing I quote here) that I urge you to rush to your nearest search engine and look it up for yourself. Let’s hope the Bucentaur gets rebuilt soon. And thanks to Sibsi for suggesting I write a song about this fabulous holiday in the first place.
-----
My hands are shaking
What will I wear?
My palms are clammy
How should I do my hair
Which of these enormous hats
Will look the prettiest on me
On the day of my marriage to the sea
My marriage was arranged
But I’m a old-fashioned guy
So I don’t really mind
A pre-ordained bride
When I was elected
My responsibility
Every year was to get married to the sea
Listen to the chanting priests
My little holy troubadours
Aspergēs mē hȳsōpō,
et mundābor
It means sprinkle me with hyssop
And then I will be clean
On the day of my marriage to the sea
Many centuries ago
An old pope donated a ring
To be thrown into the waves
A bit of Vatican bling
And every year since
By tradition and decree
We toss another fancy ring into the sea
Look, here’s my golden boat
A wonder to behold
It has a golden throne
And lots of sculptures, also gold.
And when I sail upon her
Everybody looks at me
Because they know I’m getting married to the sea
My advisors lecture me
That the ceremony
Weds the sea to the city
Not to me personally
But they’re tiring and pedantic,
That’s a technicality;
I say it’s me that’s getting married to the sea
The big day is finally here:
I will say I do
Then all the fishes and the dolphins
And the squids say “I do too”
‘Cause that’s just how we roll
in a thalassocracy
And you’re invited to my marriage to the sea
|
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9. |
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The Berlin Wall fell on November 9, 1989, as you probably remember. Unfortunately, the ninth day of the eleventh month also happens to be the date of several rather less savoury historical events, notably including both the Beer Hall Putsch and Kristallnacht, which made celebrating German reunification that day less than appealing. So der Tag der Deutschen Einheit (Germany Unity Day) is celebrated instead on October 3, to commemorate the day in 1990 when reunification of East and West Germany into a single German state was made official. Thanks to Wolfgang for suggesting this complicated set of holidays as a topic for a song.
-----
You’re giving me that look
That look that you give me
When I’ve forgotten something important
Like the dry-cleaning or our anniversary
But baby don’t be crazy
Of course I remember
The day we got back together
But today is the day
Not the 3rd of October
No I haven’t been drinking,
Look at me, I’m sober
I thought we agreed
It’s the 9th of November
The day that we got back together
The day that we got back together
After so many long years apart
The day that we got back together
It’s written in the calendar of my heart
That magical night
When I saw you there
For the first time in so long
Wind of Change was in the air
I mean the Scorpions song
I wasn’t referring to the weather
On the day we got back together
The wall tumbled down
And Hasselhof sang
And it’s true that was the evening
When we began again with a bang
But too many bad things
Also happened on the 9th of November
We can’t call it the day we got back together
The day that we got back together
Was historically not so nice, and I’m shocked
That you’d want to commemorate our reunion
On the same date as Kristallnacht
But October the 3rd
Holds no sparkle, not for nobody
It’s just the day that we signed the papers in triplicate photocopies
Well November 9th was also the Beer Hall Putsch, and look,
I’d rather not be reminded of the Nazis
You were the east
And you were the west
But now we’re together
And there’s nothing better than togetherness
We can keep fighting
But really, whatever
I know the day we got back together
I know the day we got back together
|
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10. |
Better King Wenceslas
02:25
|
|||
My attempt to tell a more historically accurate version of poor Wenceslas’ life. Nice guys finish last, even in 10th-century Bohemia. The first two lines are stolen from the original by John Mason Neale (1853), the rest are mine, and the tune is the same one that Neale himself lifted from the 13th century hymn “Tempus adest floridum.”
-----
Good king Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
Many people milled about
But they could not see him
For you see, he was a ghost
Spectral, sad and eerie
He found haunting his old castle most
Dispiriting and dreary
He had a violent childhood
In tenth century Bohemia
At scheming were the nobles good
But his kin was e’en schemier
When Wenceslas was just a lad
His grandmother the Regent
Was murdered by his mother’s hand
Which was really most indecent
His mom was a pagan queen
She hated stupid Christians
But when Wency turned eighteen
He led a resistance
Sent his mom into exile
Said I’ll be a good sovereign
With a chill relaxed lifestyle
Making peace and feasting often
He was nice to everyone
Even women and peasants
I bet you’ve guessed I’m leading up
To something quite unpleasant
His little brother Boleslav
Was plotting with his buddies
One day they killed poor Wenceslas
It was mean and very bloody
Now Wenceslas is quite morose
Having been most cruelly murdered
He has no friends, now he’s a ghost
No colleagues or co-workers
He must admit his brother is
A leader good and clever
But as a general human being
Wency knows that he was better
|
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11. |
Happy Hanukkah
03:50
|
|||
This was originally written for the 2010 Zunior.com holiday compilation "A Country Blues Christmas." Half-hearted apologies to any of my fellow Jews who might be offended by me first stealing the traditional melody of the Hanukkah candle-lighting blessing, and then actually including the blessing itself in a song that also talks about being sad and drunk during this joyous celebration. Life is complicated.
Recorded by Michael Feuerstack at his apartment in Montreal in 2010.
-----
Well it’s that time of year once again:
Eight days of candles and family and friends
But I’ve got no cards or presents to send
No grandma to make me no latkes
Just this bottle of discount brand vodka, so I sing:
It’s late, it’s dark, and it’s cold
And the houses are covered in snow
I’ve lost my keys, and I’ve lost my job
And I’m lonely, and I’m drunk
Happy Hanukkah.
It’s a holiday about a miracle and a war
But I don’t feel very merry and I don’t think I can drink anymore
I’ve tried playing dreidel by myself
Somehow I still manage to lose
Whenever us Jews get the blues, we just pray:
Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam,
asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu
l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.
|
||||
12. |
Jolly Diwali
06:11
|
|||
I'll be the first to admit that I don't really know a lot about Diwali. One of the most interesting things I didn't know before, but do now, is that there's a Diwali tradition in which a military delegation from India meets a Pakistani regiment to exchange sweets and take photos for the local papers. Sort of a formalized equivalent of enemy soldiers singing "Silent Night" across the trenches, but with more candy. Thanks to Simon for suggesting Diwali as a holiday song topic. I apologize if this is not what you had in mind.
-----
I stood at the border with brushed epaulets
I had shined my parade boots, I never forget
Every year at Diwali the local detachment
Meets the other side’s forces, it’s tradition, it’s fashion
We peace-make and handshake, swap sweets and give greetings
Mortal enemies again at the end of the meeting
Well this year Diwali it came round again
And I stood at attention and greeted the men
Their uniforms were khaki of a different shade
But otherwise they looked nearly almost the same
Cameras clicked and we posed for both sides’ TV stations
Look at us, everyone, we’re just two friendly nations
But just then a hand slipped a note into my pocket
I turned to see who made the clandestine deposit
His eyes implored me please don’t take a peek
’Til you’re back in your barracks and the men are asleep
I stared and you’ll think me conceited, I’m guessing,
When I tell you my first thought was his note was confessing
His longing for me over on my side of the border
Which would be odd as we’d first met a few moments before, so
I quickly dismissed this, my ego was tripping
But I admit I was into this illicit note-slipping
So I nodded consent and climbed into the Jeep
Imagining what else this letter could be
As we drove back to the base, I wondered if all the drama
Related to some long tragic family saga
I imagined his mother, growing older and frail
Telling her only son of her long-secret tale
She was in love with a young man and before Partition
They’d whisper and plot out their hidden decision
To run away to the hills and marry one day
Despite anything parents or grandparents might say
But history never did listen to orders
And soon they were driven apart by a border
And seventy years now divided them too
But her last wish was to tell him, darling I still love you
I felt certain this must be the gist of the history
Like a sad epic novel by Rushdie or Mistry
So when we returned to the barracks I declined in partaking
In the feasts and festivities my colleagues were making
I retired to my bunk and checked no one was around
As the fireworks lit up the streets of the town
I unfolded the note as I lay on my bed
In a young man’s handwriting this is what it said:
A thousand apologies for this secrecy
But I must be so careful the others don’t see me
Please don’t be angry, this isn’t a joke
I need a friend to find me my brand of smokes
They’ve stopped selling them here, and I know it sounds terrible
But it’s the only thing making the military bearable
I’ve enclosed enough of your rupees for a carton, can you get it?
I’ll find a way to repay you, I’ll be forever indebted.
At first I was disappointed and I had some regrets
That all he wanted was contraband cigarettes
But then I remembered that over on his side
They make those amazing desserts with pistachios inside
Now Diwali’s more jolly, the same old ceremony
Doesn’t seem quite so empty or pointless or phoney
And my enemy-friend and I hide our deceit
Meeting monthly in moonlight to swap smokes for sweets
|
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13. |
The Winter Away
06:25
|
|||
This was originally written for thelineofbestfit.com compilation Ho! Ho! Ho! Canada #7 back in 2015. Thanks to Ro Cemm for all the support over the years!
-----
The first snow of the season fell on election day
As an omen, this was confusing.
Was it a portent of a long, hard winter,
Or a harbinger of change?
I wondered, as I drove to my morning appointment.
As the snow and the Liberals piled up
I stayed outside and worked like the dickens.
And “the dickens” is the Devil, and the Devil, he works very hard
One day I shut myself inside with the first Great Lake Swimmers record
And I sang along to “The Man With No Skin”
The snow it fell down, and the lights did flicker
Then the power went out
Still, I kept singing the winter away.
Well, I believe in no Jesus
Though I live surrounded by Christians
So it was that I was invited to dinner on Christmas Eve
There were neighbours, there were strangers
There was Amanda and her racist boyfriend
We got drunk and started fighting about immigration.
With the drunken fire of the righteous
I stormed away from the Christmas table
And I stumbled my way down the dark and wintry road
I lay down on the pillows of a snowbank
Turned my face up to the sky
And I opened my mouth
And sang “We Are the Champions”
The snow it fell down, and the stars did flicker
And the moon it came out
Still, I kept singing the winter away:
No time for losers,
We are the champions of the world.
|
The Burning Hell
The Burning Hell is the ongoing musical project of songwriter Mathias Kom and multi-instrumentalists Ariel Sharratt and Jake
Nicoll, often including additional comrades and collaborators.
Their densely populated genre-shifting songs are packed with an abundance of literary, historical, cultural, and pop-cultural forebears, heroes and villains, subjects and objects, stories and hooks.
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