Zinging the Living Tradition
Parody versions of hymns in the Unitarian Universalist hymnal, Singing the Living Tradition.
Wake Now, My Husband
Sung to the tune of #298
Wake now, my husband, you’re snoring too loud
People in front of us have turned around;
Minister’s staring, I’m turning bright red.
But you won’t wake up, t’ the world you are dead.
Your head has rolled back, you’re starting to drool;
I whisper in your ear, “Wake up, you fool!”
You stir and straighten, and then try to fake
That through the sermon, you’ve been wide awake.
Lest I be accused of gender bias, I will say that the only reason I chose “husband” is because it scans better.
Where Is That Blasted Church?
Sung to the tune of #113
Where is that blasted church?
I cannot find it, though
I called them up and asked them: Please,
do tell me how to go.
Where did they build their church?
Out on the edge of town;
so visitors, and newcomers,
can never track them down.
Where is our holy One?
Perhaps she’s lost like me;
that Unitar’an Univers’list
church she’ll never see.
Spirit of Strife
Sung to the tune of #123
Spirit of strife,
come unto me,
live in my soul,
give my life the shape of conflict.
My mind is closed,
my heart’s a stone;
I will not feel
any friendship or compassion.
I will not yield!
I will not budge!
Spirit of strife,
come to me, come to me.
We Are an Gently Doubting People
Sung to the tune of #170
We are a gently doubting people
And we are doubting, doubting all our lives.
We like discussions never-ending,
But a firm answer — well, answers give us hives.
We will consider ev’ry viewpoint,
And we will never, never let things rest;
We won’t reach a firm conclusion,
We’d rather argue, argue with great zest.
If you want to be obscure, you can substitute “We are an aporetic people” for the first line.
Joy of New Words!
Sung to the tune of #245
Be reassured! We’ve changed the words
Of bad old Christmas songs.
We’ve made them up to date,
Got rid of words we hate…
(…and made them all sound wrong,
and made them all sound wrong,
and made — and made, them all sound wrong!)
For far too long, those bad old songs
Our hearts and minds infect’d!
But now we’ve bowlderized,
We’ve totally revised:
Politic’lly correct’d,
Politic’lly correct’d,
Poli — poli-tic’lly correct’d.