A present from St. Chrispy..

'Twas the night before Chrispymas, and all through the list,
not a Seancer was posting ...except for Chrisp! :)
His presents were wrapped, and under the tree,
Perhaps Santa would deliver something from Kilbey;
He should've been sleeping, but lay awake instead,
While dreams of the new album danced in his head.
He had on his HOB tour shirt, SASE spinning nearby,
He had just reached track 7 -that great song "Lullaby".
When all of a sudden there arose such a skipping,
he didn't notice at first -he thought he was tripping.
but away to the player he flew like a flash,
smacked it a few times, and it fell with a crash.

But the player's speakers continued to sound,
Giving a great vibe to the room all around.
When, what into the yard outside should drive,
But a small red minivan & U-haul, with The Church inside!
Along with a couple of roadies, Trevor and Ward;
I knew that this night, I wouldn't be bored.

Out of the van like rock stars they came;
I started shouting and yelling and called them by name,
"Hey Peter, Hey Marty, Hey Steve, Hey Timmy!
Er.. Mr. Willson-Piper, Mr. Powles, Mr. Koppes, and Mr. Kilbey...".
They said, "We've got a private gig for you, a present, -the set list's
your call;
perhaps something from 'Seance', 'Magician', 'Heyday', or 'Baal'?"

Like leaves in the wind, the roadies did fly;
They set up all the instruments, and gave them a try.
So up to the "stagefront" the guys were drawn,
I couldn't believe it! A concert on my lawn!

And then in a twinkling, began a new song that they wrote,
They started strumming & picking on each little note.
I took the entire scene in, and was swaying around,
And over to the mic Mr. Kilbey came with a bound.

He was dressed in white jeans from his waist to his feet,
The rest of his clothes were road-worn, but still pretty neat.
He had his milk-white bass, strung over his back,
While Marty & Peter stood poised as if for attack..

My eyes --how they twinkled, I was feeling so merry!
The songs were like ...roses, only darker and scary! :)
Tim drummed with his sticks repeatedly up and down,
And a great steady beat throbbed through my town.
Marty had the stump of a joint held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
And Peter -he stood and played like the pro that he was,
The speakers were thumping and shaking (Peter -the cause).

Marty was jumping all over the stage like an elf!
I laughed when I thought this (I couldn't help myself).
After many a tunes the set list wore down
(I was still in shock -The Church in my town!).
I had seen them play live before, so had nothing to fear,
But I couldn't help but think "shouldn't Santa be here?"
With a nod from the guys, and a wave of their hands;
(No need to say much, it was easy to understand.)
They spoke not a word, but went straight to their ride,
Got into the vans and started to drive.
The red minivan in the lead, ...kind of like a sleigh.
(Sorry, no Rudolph, just red-nosed roadies guiding their way.)
Suddenly, I awoke on the floor -back in my room!
The fallen player on my head no longer playing its tune.
The dream that I'd had was caused by my klutzy tripping;
Note to self: Don't smack the CD player to STOP it from skipping.
Still, I was very grateful to have dreamt such a sight;
So, Merry Chrispymas to all, but for now ....GOOD NIGHT!

Written by Chrispy, 1999. Ain't he great?


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