A mother's prayer for Andy Murray (Non-interventionist God)

Will try and get a video of this being sung up on YouTube - it's part of the live show My Bad Gospel: The Backslider's Songbook Vol 1, due to debut at Belladrum 2011


Hallo Andy I heard from your mum

She’s most concerned about what you’ve not become

The people of Scotland, they’ve been calling too

I’m not sure there’s a lot I can do for you



I suppose I could send some sort of plague

On your opponents, but that seems pretty vague

I could turn Nadal into a pillar of salt

But everyone would guess it was all my fault



And I’m a non-interventionist God


I’m a non-interventionist God


People laugh, and say it’s odd


But I’m a non-interventionist God



The thing is Andy, what people don’t get

I can’t help you get the ball over the net

I’m trying to make it plain, believe me it’s true

When it comes to racquets, it’s all up to you



CHORUS



Prayers are nice, praise is so rare these days

It’s always good to see you on your knees to pray

But my advice is to hone your skill

I’m saying God won’t, but maybe you will



CHORUS



Frankly Andy, your hope is quite forlorn

My interventionist days are all but gone

I don’t feel at home on a tennis court

I much prefer golf.

I invented that sport.



CHORUS

All at sea with 2.5 Honda horsepower

I've owned three Honda outboard motors, and this is the third, attached to a diminutive inflatable boat (also made by or rather for Honda). Four-stroke engines, none of that nasty petrol-oil mixing. All have been brilliant starters, even after weeks lying idle at storm-lashed moorings. One saved my (and my venerable Shetland Model's) bacon when the boat broke away from its mooring in a storm, was chased down by me aboard a salmon farm tender, and, amid cartwheeling waves and threatening rocks, started first pull to haul me back to shore and safety.

The inflatable arrived yesterday, was duly inflated and tested, with motor, this evening. You'd hardly go waterskiing using it, but for the odd spot of fishing and picnicking it's just the job. And the outboard works beautifully. Better, I have to say, much, much better, than the character-forming British Seagull I last used. Now, however, that two-strokes have been consigned to history by European environmental regulations, the monstrous Seagull, once the engine of everyboat, will gradually fade from the memories of boatie folk. It is already assuming the aura of legend: stories of Seagull motors left in a hedge for a year, cleaned up and started at the first pull. What they don't mention is that you took all the skin off both set of knuckles doing it. And had a nervous breakdown in the process.

Seagulls were crude. All you needed to fix them was a hammer, it is said. I bought into that fantasy. But after 20 minutes of hitting it with a hammer, it still wouldn't go. All you have to do with a Honda is speak nicely to it occasionally.