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Thoroughly
Modern Sally
for Sally
Hitchiner, on her departure from St John's in June 2012
A day in the
life
to the tune of “A
day in the life”
I
saw the news today oh
boy
I had to check to make
quite sure it’s on
I
thought it must be
repeat
for every programme had
this curate on…
She wasn’t male, she
wasn’t bald
she didn’t talk like
David Cameron.
She wasn’t sixty three
years old—
everyone
was really sure
she wasn’t from
the House of Lords
I couldn’t turn her
off….
I
switched from Sky to
BBC—
somehow
she’d made it to
that studio
My radio found LBC
then I was hearing her
in stereo
I
couldn’t turn her
off….
Thoroughly Modern Sally
to the tune of
“Everything today is thoroughly modern"
There
are those I
suppose
think we're mad, Heaven
knows
the world is gone to
wrack and to ruin.
What we think is chic,
unique, and quite adorable
they think is odd and
"
but the fact is
Everything
today is
thoroughly modern
(no
point getting jittery)
everything
today makes
yesterday slow
(make it quick and Twittery)—
without
technology
theology’s dead
now truth is measured by
website hits and
Likes instead!
(check
your Tweets and Shares today!)
every
Twitter feed is
setting the tone
(go
running with those hares today!)
They’ll
write your
sermons if you ask them
all how,
so mark those blogs cos here
comes thoroughly
modern Sally now!
Equal
rights today are
testing the Synod
(Rowan’s
hair’s already grey)
Sally
takes no
prisoners, that’s very plain
(the
heretics won’t get their way).
They
might endure it if
the curate’s a gal,
but not a bishop unless
you’re evangelical!
(worship’s getting jazzier)
everything today is
starting to go
(clergy clothes are gettin' snazzier)
20s
and 30s are quite
flirty and how
so tag those photographs
of thoroughly
modern Sally now!
Everyone
today is wholly
connected
(finding
your pastoral needs)
everyone
today is
virtually free
(good
for getting chicken feed*)
so
when you’re leaving
there’s less grieving
somehow
for we’re still Facebook
Friends with thoroughly
modern Sally now!
*In
Sally's farewell sermon
she used a live chicken as an illustration.
When you came to
Cafe C
to the tune of
“Lord, I lift your name on high"
When
you came to Café C
it was not quite what
you expected.
It was not like HTB,
theologically corrected
You
came from Wycliffe to here to find your way
then you came to
saw the needs and saw the pain
saw those who won’t be whole again
and threw your sermon plan away.
a church
of questioners
and needers
full of prejudice and
greed
(and I’m just talking
about us leaders)—
you came from
to sow
and found a church in which your own belief
could grow
a church for those who break the rules,
a church for drunks, a church for fools,
like every other church we know.
When
you were leading
Café C
you
saw there’s nothing
gained by worry
saw that life is liturgy
saw that love’s not in a
hurry.
You came from somewhere to here to find
a place
where you could learn to see the work of
saving grace
a church of little miracles
where someone rises, someone falls
and we become community.
Change my hairdo
to the tune of
“Sing a rainbow"
Red and
yellow and pink and green
orange
and
purple and blue—
change
my hairdo
The Hitchiner
lament
At
a time like this, spare a thought for
the bard—
The job of a poet is terrible hard.
When you’re called upon to write an ode
for a curate (or other member of
there’s nobody else that you can blame
when you can’t find a rhyme for their second
name.
Now I know what you’re thinking—
Your Country
Needs You!—
that First World War general—wouldn’t he do?
They’re both sending out people to fight the
good fight
who are coming back dead or insane because of the complete
incompetence
of the
leadership? Well, all right
perhaps on the whole the comparison’s rash,
and anyway Sal wouldn’t suit a moustache.
There’s just no decent rhyme for the second
name
of Sally—Whitchiner case is a shame,
for she’s sharp and quick but there’s nothing
of the Bitchiner,
though occasionally there may be something
a little Kitschiner,
and though its true to say she’s been regulary
Pitchiner
ideas to the media and one day she may be
Switchiner
career, and will fulfil ambition’s Itchiner
and find her Nitchiner
television studio, yet the bright lights of fame
will not be
Bewitchiner
for her time here has been Enritchiner,
and we pray that faith, hope and love
may never Flitchiner—
so let nobody think that we are Ditchiner
for her job here is done, the University has
called,
and the will of
God is
pointing like
the famous poster of Lord Kitchener—
then let us say thank you, farewell
and God bless you, Sally…
our former curate!
Performed in St John's, West Ealing in June 2012.