I was asked to write something about the solstice for an appearance yesterday at the Buckingham Literary Festival, and while I don’t have video of the performance, I thought I’d share the lyrics, as they made me chuckle when I was putting it together. We just don’t think of others enough when we carry out our rituals!
What is it, with you people and your sunlight?
What is it, makes you start to act like loons?
What is it, makes you get all weird and worshipy?
Each year around the 21st of June
The longest day? Well let me tell you something.
This solstice fetish drives me outa my mind
You’d hate this daylight mania
If you were born in Transylvania
So stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine
Yes the solstice to a vampire’s
Like green kryptonite to superman
Like hairdressers to Samson
Salt to slugs
Like nuts to those with allergies
Like sharks to those who surf
Like moths to haute coutore
Spiders to bugs
What is it, with you people and your monuments?
Why is it, that they’re lined up with the sun?
What is it, makes you gather at the sunrise?
Each year, when all the longer nights are done?
The longest day? Well let me tell you something.
This solstice fetish drives me outa my mind
Though I’m sure you’d find it hard to,
Spare a thought for Nosferatu
And stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine
Yes the solstice to a vampire’s
Like red wine to brand new carpet
Like erections at the doctors
Jokes to wakes
Like drunk girls to karaoke
Like drunk boys to, well anything
Like rust to aging boats
Pirhanas to lakes
What is it, with you people and your rituals?
What is it, makes you start to act all strange?
What is it, makes you dance and sing and copulate?
In ways that seem increasingly deranged?
The longest day? Well let me tell you something.
This solstice fetish drives me outa my mind
At your midsummer spectaculars
Spare a thought for dear old Dracula
And stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine
Yes the solstice to a vampire’s
Like a virus to a laptop
Like silver bullets to a werewolf
Mould to bread
Like acne to a teenager
Like slugs to finest lettuce
Like cheetahs to gazelles
Guillotiné to head
The longest day? Well let me tell you something.
This solstice fetish drives me outa my mind
Save my kind from all this dread
Spare a thought for the undead
And stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine
Yes, stick your solstice where the sun don’t shine
