It’s half past nine on a chilly day
The chorister crowd straggles in
There’s an old bass snoring next to me
With his head down and drool on his chin.
He says, “God, what a way to spend holidays!
“I’m not really sure why I go.
“If it weren’t for the man with the magical hands
“Every bass would be lost in the snow.”

So play us a tune, Dr Winikoff
Tickle that ivory.
You were exiled to deep West Virginia,
But now you’re back home at IV.

Now Michael’s a doctor of geekiness
Who somehow had time for a wife
So he married Leanne and they moved to Cheyenne-land
And tried for the John Denver life.
But the natives ate Big Macs and Heineken,
And vego cuisine was unknown,
So they’ve packed up their books and their Macintosh
And back to Australia they’ve flown.

So play us a tune, Dr Winikoff
By Beethoven, Mozart or Orff.
A chorus by Bizet or Borodin
Or maybe the theme to Red Dwarf.

And blow us away, Dr Winikoff
Not one of us thinks it is odd
That Christians and Pagans and atheists
All give you the nickname of “God”!