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
