Recently in Mormonism Category

You wanna sing something really scary . . . .? This one’s a parody I wrote myself back in my missionary days, though it’s not quite as incisive as Brother Smith’s efforts.

Sung to the tune of Michael Jackson's “”

It’s close to lunchtime
And two young men are coming up the walk
You hear the door chime
And feel your fingers twisting at the lock
You hope they go
But one of them just saw you through the window
So really slow
You crack the door and look them in the eyes
You realize . . .

That these are ELDERS
At your door
And they won’t go away
Unless you let them tell you more
Yes, these are ELDERS
Let them in
Prepare a couple chairs
And let the teaching, preaching, begin!

So in a smooth tone
You offer them some coffee and a smoke
You toke some home-grown
And watch them elders cough and start to choke
They say no thank you
The Lord has said we should not use that substance
But here’s what you can do
Just read a message printed in this book
Just take a look . . .

’Cause it’s PROMISE
When you hear it
Then nothing’s gonna save you
From the power of the Holy Spirit
It’s a PROMISE
Just for you
So take a chance and find out
What we’re saying praying can do!

Let’s hit our knees
And we’ll ask the Lord please if He’ll tell you
There’s no escaping
The sins that are making you die
Unless you try
To start a new life

They’re out to get you
There’s elders closing in on every side
They will beset you
Until you change your mind and you decide
Now is the time
For you and them to go into the water
Rinse off the grime
They’ll save you from the terror of the grave
If you behave . . .

And you are BAPTIZED
In this font
Then you’ll be clean
And you’ll have all the blessings you could want
Yes, when you’re BAPTIZED
For your sins
Then you’re the one who wins
And you’ll feel better, wetter, tonight!

Something for the elders to hum as they march across the world in the lockstep of righteousness . . .

Sung to the tune of “”

Grab your whites, put them on,
Read your fiancée’s Dear John,
As the elders go tracting along.

Gobble down mac ’n’ shazz,
Check your dunks and all that jazz,
As the elders go tracting along.

For it’s hit!—that!—door!
“Would you like to know some more?
All other faiths out there are wrong!

“Yes, this church, it is true,
We’ll explain it all to you,”
As the elders go tracting along!

Brother Smith writes: “I’ve never heard the redoubtable speak, but I always picture him with a deep, rumbling bass voice . . . sorta like a beloved TV character . . .”

Sung to the tune of the “” theme

Oh, a horse is a horse, of course, of course,
And every Nephite had a horse, of course,
A view that few wise folks endorse,
Except for Dr. Hugh!

Well, 'twasn't a horse—cite FARMS as source—
’Twas a deer or a snake or a patch of gorse.
The Church defends this tale with force,
Just talk to Dr. Hugh!

Brother Smith was commissioned to write the following theme song for the pilot of the failed television sitcom “All in the L.D.S. Family.” Fortunately for us, the lyrics have survived.

Sung to the tune of the “” theme

[Scene: A middle-class living room in the Celestial Kingdom, Joseph and Emma seated at the piano.]

Joseph: Boy, the way I prophesied—
Emma: Stretched the truth and sometimes lied—
Joseph: Chased the girls until I died—
Both: Those were the days!

Emma: You kept reinventing God—
Joseph: No one even thought it odd—
Both: Everyone should have some suckers
Just like those to defraud!

Joseph: Didn’t need no Golden Plates—
Emma: Only wanted to create—
Both: Nauvoo's theocratic state—
Those—were—the—days!!

Brother Smith writes: "I've been working on a few other parodies, of which I offer one here. It's a possible door approach for musically inclined elders."

Sung to the tune of “”

Fed up with watching football on TV,
Sick of religious search?
Come join the One True Church, my friend,
Come join the One True Church!

You'll be a god running worlds of your own,
You'll have a privileged perch,
Come join the One True Church, my friend,
Come join the One True Church!

Who needs to drink?
(Who needs to think?)
Our way of life is past comparing—
Check the underclothes we're wearing!

Our prophet has his own hot line to God
(Whose politics are John Birch)
Come join the One True Church, my friend—
Don't get left in the lurch, my friend—
Come join the One True Church!!!

Here we present the hymn wherein Smith’s parodic brilliance first made itself manifest. It concerned an exchange with a “conserned” reader in Voices from the Dust.

Sung to the tune of “” (a.k.a. “To Nephi, Seer of Olden Time”)

To William Shunn, the Web’s Babe Ruth,
Came e-mail rather odd,
Wherein a callow Mormon youth
Brought up the Iron Rod.

chorus
Give up the Rod, the Iron Rod,
Find something else to do.
The Iron Rod is a big restrictive fraud,
It’s way past time you knew.

Welcome to the Nauvoo Cabaret, a parody review featuring the hilarious lyrics of Stephen Sondheim Smith! I first encountered Smith's delightfully wry versifying in a bit of email he sent me in 1996. I'm pleased to reproduce those lyrics here, along with one modest effort from myself.

(Just to be clear, the pseudonymous Mr. Smith is an actual correspondent of mine who contributes these lyrics via email, not someone I invented. Enjoy!)