A Thousand Choirs A Day

By half way through the camp at Melbourne IV, 1998, the floors in the rehearsal room were carpeted with exhausted choristers. It’s always the way. Woody wrote a lovely filk called Corpses, to the tune of a carol called Torches. I wrote this, which I don’t think I ever performed. It’s to the tune of A Thousand Miles Away by the Hoodoo Gurus.

[January 1998]

Estimated time of rehearsal 9:15am
Been in the noisy dorm and so I’m tired before it even begins
(Now you’re singing) I got all these notes in front of me
(Really singing) They’re stretching out far as the next IV
Next IV

Spend half my morning queuing, getting breakfast or locating a seat
And if I’m not in early then it’s jelly jam on toast that I eat
(Now you’re singing) I find a piece of floor where I can lay
(Really singing) I’d rather sleep a thousand hours a day
Thousand hours a day

Singing with a crowd’s sometimes louder than you thought it would be
It can be as noisy in the choir as at an airport or a major factory
(Now you’re singing) I think I’m learning Russian, who can say
(Really singing) I hope my voice at least survives till concert day
It’s nearly gone away
A thousand miles away

Instrumental break

I promise to myself this time I’d take the chance and try to have sex
Out of all those cute sopranos is there one who’d like a bass’s respect?
(Now you’re singing) Right now I think they’re all attached or gay
(Really singing) IV sex: a thousand years away
Thousand years away
(A thousand years away)
Thousand years away
(A thousand years away)

(Now you’re singing) What was that that Ben was trying to say?
Some thing he’s said a thousand times today, hey
(A thousand times a day)
Sing it again
(A thousand tenors are gay)
Sing it again
(A thousand clouds are grey)
Sing it again
(A thousand cows eat hay)

Smyert it again…