from Paul Hamilton of the Bisonics:
DRINKING WITH JESUS
I’ve been drinking with Jesus
In a bar full of New Cross geezers
He won the jackpot on the one-armed bandit
Scooping the loot he smiled, ‘That’s the way Dad planned it’
I asked him for another miracle
‘O ye of little faith,’ he said, ‘don’t get cynical’
And made his excuses to go and turn wine
Into urine….
I’ve been drinking with Jesus
Frayed shirtcuffs, trousers in creases
Told me of his day trip to the coast
Treated deckchair society to sardines on toast
‘It ain’t easy being a famous father’s son
Patricide is tempting but what’s the use of a gun
When your target is invisible, immortal?
Unbelievable!’
I’ve been drinking with Jesus
Crow’s feet, hair like Caesar’s
Looks unlike the man nailed to a crucifix
In churches and round the necks of teenage chicks
Yesterday’s terrorist is tomorrow’s freedom fighter
Like to bring on a friend of us all, Mr Nelson Mandela
He learnt the hard way the average human
Is inhuman.
I’ve been drinking with Jesus
Snakebite and blacks, Bicardi Breezers
Looking away he says he feels hopeless shame
For what maniacs commit in his name
Taking a backseat, he lets things take their course
‘Let fundamentalists crash the pearly gates by force;
They’re not gonna like their heavenly reward:
A sword.’
I’ve been drinking with Jesus
We’re simpatico; I cough, he sneezes
He sighed, ‘Although the Vatican’s happy to own me
The sorry truth is the world has outgrown me’
Putting on his coat, he said, ‘There’s no love where there’s doubt’
He turned and waved goodbye on his way out
I looked at the holes in his hands and I saw the light
And cried.
ADDENDUM:
Paul Hamilton: The ‘Play for Today’ CD, as I mentioned afore, has some bonus uncredited songs, including one which – on reflection – is one of the best things we’ve done. It’s called ‘Drinking With Jesus’ and what was particularly pleasing was I had to come up with a last verse at the very last moment. I’m not usually good at that kind of pressure but this one came out really well. (This is a rare example of me not being modest. I hope it doesn’t sicken you.) This is the full lyric here. I like how it develops from lightweight jokes and observations and builds to a satisfying conclusion…I’m sure it’s a bit parochial, isn’t it? A bit too English. Would non-Brits know that New Cross is a tough working-class area of South-East London, or what a geezer is, or what a snakebite and black consists of (it’s a half pint of cider, half pint of lager plus dash of blackcurrant juice)? …