I used to be the singer
  In a mediocre country band.
We felt the lack of glamour
  When our drummer played with one free hand

To block the stray projectiles
  And the bottles that were thrown at me.
We claimed it was intentional
  When we performed atonally.

The audience were totally
  Opposed to so-called tunes we played
And lyrics based on poetry
  That glorified a moonlit glade.

Our lead guitarist left us
  To pursue a solo folk career.
His songs evoke a longing
  To prevail in life and soak in beer.

Even brainless people with
  A pea inside a paper skull
Could see that we were scuppered
  And a split was inescapable.

After we agreed that we
  Should terminate our enterprise,
All I saw were sombre crows
  And grey, depressing winter skies.

I had to find a medium
  To vent my inner voice in song
And moderate the tedium
  That made each day seem twice as long.

I joined a choir and there I felt
  Like athletes getting running shoes,
As satisfied as astronauts
  On lunar hills with stunning views,

Or maths professors shunning stress,
  Their time consumed by numerals.
We dressed in cheerless black attire
  That's suitable for funerals.

A memory reigns over me.
  I feel a need to let it out:
A funeral I never will
  Be able to forget about.

An ancient man called Hanrahan
  Had left for his last resting place.
He'd shown repentance at the end,
  Persistently requesting grace.

He'd much to be remorseful for.
  His skills had amplified his flaws.
It seems he'd been resourceful
  In concealing deeds outside our laws.

His family inherited
  His fortune and his properties,
Countless china teapots and
  A tendency to shop for these.

Emotions at his funeral
  Were heightened by the sound we made.
We sang our hymns astounded at
  The diamonds that we found displayed.

We looked down from the gallery
  On mourners in the pews below.
I fell into a reverie
  On where my missing shoes might go.

I pictured them on riversides
  Where they decide to stay for good,
Never to go back and be
  Disgruntled with the way I stood.

The priest was in full flow as I
  Imagined shoes command a raft.
When I heard him talk of ships
  And setting foot on land I laughed.

The mourners all looked up to see
  Who'd added to their sad distress.
They couldn't spot the culprit
  But a few may well have had a guess.

The people who seemed most composed
  Still looked as if they were annoyed.
I feared the growing fury of
  This family who I'd avoid.

They'd claim to own the Eiffel Tower
  And sell a tree new leaf attire.
It seemed they were imagining
  A meeting with the gleeful choir

When they'd be unimpeded by
  The scruples they were known to lack,
Attacking to annihilate
  Despicable sick clones in black.

The few remaining hymns we sang
  Took on apocalyptic tones.
I'd have to flee before too long
  And find a place a critic owns,

Invisible to enemies.
  I'd wait until the coast was clear.
A cabin covered by the trees
  To hide a head that's hosting fear.

When the final note was sung
  We realised we shared a plan,
Deciding to descend the stairs.
  Some of us got scared and ran.

I'm advocating cowardice.
  I won't have people knocking it.
We headed for the side-door
  But some men in black were blocking it.

They asked which one of us had been
  So happy in their time of woe.
Eyes, it seemed, were trained on me.
  I feared that local crime would grow.

By using friends as human shields
  I managed to evade the men.
I went outside and ran away
  But soon I needed aid again.

The men in black pursued me through
  The alleyways and narrow streets.
They saw me as the sort of prey
  A bullet or an arrow meets.

My fear was that before too long
  They'd get a chance to shoot at me.
It's true to say I'd be afraid
  If somebody said 'boo' to me.

The flames of hope had dwindled
  But I still had embers of the fire.
When I turned a corner
  I encountered members of the choir.

They wore their Christmas sweaters
  And their woolly hats in festive red.
I took a break from my escape.
  I chose to stop and rest instead.

They had a hat and scarf for me,
  A sweater with a fat reindeer.
A crowd soon gathered round us
  To create a Christmas atmosphere.

The men in black ran down the street,
  Seemingly oblivious
To my participation and
  Applause the crowd were giving us.

People are complaining that
  They're seeing Santa's face too soon.
Christmas starts so early now
  But we looked out of place in June.