Listen up.

Listen up.

Thursday 12 August 2021

A PRAYER TO SAINT BETTY

 


You of course know that Saint Betty (formerly known as saint Anne which I guess makes her an Annex) was The Virgin Mary's mother. Thanks to Richard of Richard's Bass Bag* for bringing that to our attention. It probably deserves a prayer in Saint Betty's favour.

Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)

Black Betty had a child (Bam-ba-Lam)
The damn thing gone wild (Bam-ba-Lam)
She said, "I'm worryin' outta mind" (Bam-ba-Lam)
The damn thing gone blind (Bam-ba-Lam)
I said "Oh, Black Betty" (Bam-ba-Lam)
Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)

Oh, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam) ..........

 ........ Sorry about that-wrong prayer.

Let's try again:

Oh dear little Flo
I love you so
Especially in your nightie
When the moonlight flits
Across your tits
Oh ..... Jesus Christ almighty!

Oops, wrong again but thanks to Dudley Moore for that. See: THE REVEREND IKE
It's a nice little prayer though and is a hell of a lot better than others that I've just researched.
Most of them are wimpy, English 18th and 19th century sycophantic entreaties to a powerful god who they thought might crush them if they didn't toe the line. They were, of course, a means of keeping the uneducated and potentially dangerous rabble in place lest they get thoughts above their station. We all know what Karl Marx thought about that.

 Here's a kind of word collage of them. I've taken some of the often repeated lines of claptrap and combined into a sort of prayer.

Our Father, who art in heaven, the lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women, and to the Holy Spirit who has a thing for thee
Hail, Holy Queen, mother of mercy,
Defend me from the evil enemy
And call me at the hour of my death to the fellowship of your saints
We fly unto thee, O virgin of virgins my mother;
To thee do we come, before thee we stand, sinful and sorrowful;
Give us this day our daily bread and the blessed  fruit of thy womb, Jesus. This will balance our diet.
Blood of Christ, let me drink your wine which will go well with that meat
Water flowing from the side of Christ, wash me clean afterwards.
 etc.

And that was just the catholic stuff.
The Anglican crap is much worse:

ALMIGHTY God, Father of all mercies,
We your unworthy servants give you most humble and hearty thanks not only with our lips, But in our lives; by giving up ourselves to your service,
ALMIGHTY and most merciful Father,
We have erred and strayed from your ways like lost sheep,
That you would be pleased to make thy ways known unto them
Open my lips, O Lord, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.
Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer.

They have a thing for lips in the Anglican church.


The American prayers are, as as expected, worse than the English based catholic and anglican ones. They seem to make up prayers for anything: Being successful in business; passing exams; driving safely to work; keeping the lawn tidy etc.

I won't offend you with some of them that I discovered - I am The Religious Curmudgeon after all.

What I will do is give you a prayer to Saint Betty so that you can use it when waiting to be served in a restaurant. Saint Betty is the patron saint of speedy restaurant service.


O Saint Betty whose surname wasn't Crocker
She was another foodie but I wouldn't mock her
Like thou she gave us instant gratification
For our worldly needs and some sugar satisfaction
That pregnant barmaid is there again I note
I hope it's not Mary as that Holy Ghost is sniffing about (Canadian pronunciation there)
One grandson's enough for you I'd have thought
Another with a made up story would be a bit of a rort.
If it is Mary I hope she's not taking an order of mine
Last time she poured me a beer instead of wine
O Saint Betty, we're in a bit of a hurry
I pray to thee that we won't have to worry
Get us in and out within half an hour for our dinner
'Cos it will gob smack Robert The Apathetic Sinner












 

* An old and sometimes read blog.

8 comments:

  1. I thought the poem had nice rhythm and rhyme. Though I can see not reason or rhyme to St Betty.

    ReplyDelete
  2. St Betty was born on a jetty.
    Later she got the nod
    From none other than god.
    Ask any priest or nun,
    God needed a son,
    To save the world from sin
    He needed to get his sperm in
    To someone who would fit the bill,
    Maybe a fourteen year old girl?
    Now Betty was a mum
    Who was bright, not dumb
    And she had a young girl
    Who seemed to fit the bill.
    And though it seems a bit odd,
    The kid was impregnated by god.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I thought it was crap.

    - William McGonagall.

    ReplyDelete
  4. And I would know.

    - William McGonagall.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I still think that the poem had nice rhythm and rhyme regardless of what my mentor, William McGonagall says. Though I can see not reason or rhyme to St Betty.

    - Robert The Apoplectic Sinner.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I liked the approach but the scan was a bit off, not to mention the rhyme but then - how many poet laureates come from Nuova Lazio mm?

    It was a nice try but I do think that one should try to get the facts right though and not to simply surmise.
    Was Betty born on a jetty? Really? I think that poor old Mr. Fact got bumped by a chance at a cheap and easy rhyme there.

    The rhyme "bill" vs "girl" was good. I liked that It shows maturity and intelligence and an appreciation of the poetry of the 20th century moderns like Eliot, Auden and Yeats. Either that or the guy just couldn't find a good rhyme. We'll give him the benefit of the doubt eh.

    All in all a damned good attempt which finished with an aggressive and controversial statement:

    "And though it seems a bit odd,
    The kid was impregnated by god"

    Catholics, other christians and, I guess, any foolish religious exponents should sit up and take notice.

    - Iva Gottadegreeinliterature. PHD (Gottenheim).

    ReplyDelete

THE MORE OBSCURE CATHOLIC SAINTS - PART FIVE

I know that some readers think that I make these saints up but, believe me, sometimes fact is much stranger than fiction. Take St. Joseph of...