(4 October 1969)
A recent (2012) e-mail from Geoff Smith
informed me that this concert was organised by him
and another guy called Peter Heywood on behalf of the Rochdale Evangelical Alliance.
|Flyer - with misprint for Gordon Bailey's name||Programme cover|
Ticket for the concert
Rochdale Town Hall
| One of Gordon
FIRST TRIP TO CHURCH
I'd never been to church before, I'd never wanted to; But came a Sunday when I found that I had, nowt to do. I wandered round the town a bit, but, boy, our town is dead, I thought I would have been much better back at home, in bed; But stopped outside St. Peter's church - it really looked a ruin; "It can't do much for folks!" I thought, cause I couldn't see any queuin' I wondered what went on inside, decided that I'd see; I came, I saw, I conquered all my curiosity. It fair gave me the bloomin' creeps before I reached the door, 'Cause I had to walk on gravestones that they'd used to make the floor. Inside I saw these moth-chewed banners drooping near a tomb, But not much else until I grew accustomed to the gloom. I found my way quite easily to where I had to sit, Then lost my way in't prayer book, couldn't make much sense of it. I listened to the others praying, and thought it very odd, That someone had to write a script before they talked to God. I wondered if they thought that God requires a hearing-aid - The way they said some prayers three times; that's really how they prayed. And fancy asking God for bread ! They must have asked Him twice! He didn't answer! Honest! Well, I never got a slice. Hey, what were they expecting? And who'd be startled most, If from above descended bits of buttered Holy Toast? That really would've shattered them! Bet their eyes would open wide, If from the skies fell half a dozen leaves - of Father's Pride! With songs that had more words that notes, and didn't even rhyme; Kneel down, sit still, stand up, good grief! Still, helped to pass the time, Till what's-his-name in't pulpit did the Selling-God-routine; And sounded like a sufferer from cancer of the spleen. I couldn't understand his words, like "Righteous", and "Almighty"; I wondered why the stupid narna still had on his nightie, I eyed his smock, or is it frock? And wondered if these vicars --- Wear underskirts; or, even say, eccleselastic knickers. Quite honestly I listened, but no sense could I get from it, And after what seemed hours, my one reaction was to vomit. It must have upset someone once, I do not take the mick; Cause at the back there was a box, and it was labelled "For the Sick!" No wonder young folk stay away, I'll never go again, Unless I'm in my coffin, and it sure wont bore me then. Quite seriously, they put me off, a welcome I found lacking, Perhaps they'll change the church's name from St Peter's to St Packing!
(Gordon Bailey Copyright 1968)
| Gordon Bailey at the
Palace Theatre, Manchester (1 Dec 1968)
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