The judges of the
Eccles Bad Hymn Award are very pleased to welcome Fr John Glynn, who is going to tell us about his hymn
I watch the sunrise.
I watch the sunrise.
E: Good to have you here, John. I see from your website that your hymn has been used in a variety of contexts: radio, TV, films,... why, some people even sing it at weddings and funerals.
JG: Yes, it also makes a great accompaniment to Tom and Jerry cartoons,
especially the bit where Jerry is hitting Tom over the head with a hammer: he sings the moving words, I watch the hammer, hitting your head.
E: Well, that's enough free advertising.
Let's talk about the hymn itself. There's
a lot in it about what you do all day long, but not much about God, really.
JG: I've got a lot of time on my hands these days, Eccles, and I do spend most of the day staring out of the window.
E: So I see. Now, in verse 1 you've got up bright and early to see the sunrise, and
you're rambling on about the shadows the sun casts.
JG: Yes, many worshippers don't realise that the sun casts shadows, so I thought I'd
point this out.
Evidence that the sun does indeed cast shadows.
E: But of course God is close as well. That's the main message of the hymn - in fact the only one - apart from a detailed description of what you do all day long.
I watch the sunrise/sunlight/sunset/moonlight.
JG: Here's a verse we didn't use, Eccles. It was again about watching things, but
it has a tragic theme to it.
I watch the toaster warming the bread,
Grilling my toast for tea,
But, as it pops up into my face,
I feel that pain is near me.
E: It would be good for funerals, maybe, John. Moments of sadness, and all that. Not so good for weddings, maybe,
JG: No, also it does get away slightly from the main theme of the song, which is
astronomical observations.
I watch the planets, when the sky's clear, bumbling along their ways.
E: I was going to ask about that, actually. What do you do when it's cloudy, and
you can't see the sun?
JG: Go down to the pub, usually. I didn't write a verse about that.
John Glynn's favourite pub.
E: I still have this problem that I confuse your song with another better-known one:
I see skies of blue,
And clouds of white.
The bright blessed day,
The dark sacred night.
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.
Oh yeah.
What John Glynn was trying to say.
JG: Yes, that does seem to have as much religious content as my own song. It's even got the words "blessed" and "sacred" in it, so we know it's a genuine hymn. And the
"Oh yeah" at the end is classic Paul Inwood, if I'm not mistaken.
E: Jealous?
JG: Just a bit. Still, my hymn is in all the hymn books, and that's what counts.
Also, the producers of a forthcoming Dracula musical have been
thinking of getting the Count to sing a new verse:
Can't see the sunlight, I'm underground,
Lying inside my tomb,
And, as I rest from chasing the girls,
I feel the earth is near me.
E: You could use that verse at funerals too, couldn't you?
John Glynn, thank you for talking to us.
Previous entries for the Eccles Bad Hynm Award:
Lord of the Dance.
Shine, Jesus, shine.
Enemy of apathy.
Walk in the Light.
Kum Ba Yah.
Follow me.
God's
Spirit is in my heart.
Imagine.
Alleluia Ch-ch.
It ain't necessarily so.
I, the Lord of sea and sky.
Colours of day.
The red flag.
Go, the Mass is ended.
