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St. Shannon
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Listening to the song, you might assume she’s the patron saint of backslidin’ Christians, but in reality she’s nothing less than a Texas sweetheart named Shannon.
Charts
#2,497 in subgenre today Peak #29
Charts
Peak #81
Author
Rights
2005, Den Hollinden (ASCAP.) All rights reserved.
Uploaded
April 07, 2005
MP3
MP3 3.3 MB, 128 kbps, 3:33
Story behind the song
A few years ago I had the good fortune of being reunited with a girl I went to high school with. One of the many pleasant surprises in the life she’d managed to create for herself was daughter Shannon. Before SoundClick here, Shannon was one of the few people I’d met who loves music as much as I do. She’d managed to make two of the things I’ve often found most difficult—being a good Christian and playing piano—look easy. In fact there was such a contrast between sweet, huggable Shannon and backslidin’ Christian me, I knew there just had to be a country song in there somewhere. Well, here it is. I’m posting it today in honor of Shannon’s birthday. …and no, that’s NOT her on piano—(Pardon my freedom) c’est moi. I don’t know anybody else who plays that thing as well as she does. Happy birthday, Shanny Boo. I wish I could sit and listen to you play right now.
Lyrics
My straight and narrow's windin', And it's been a little bit confinin'-- A time or two I've completely lost my way. Every cloud has a silver linin'; Mine just needs a little shinin' To prepare me for a new and brighter day. No, this ain't the valley of the shadow of death, Just a long neck Shiner and a waitress named Beth. I do believe in the man upstairs, I just wonder sometimes if He even cares about me. But a friend of His is friend of mine; She talks to Him all the time. She follows the Golden Rule, Plays piano home after school, And I'm sure the good Lord listens ever chance He can; So, tonight when you're down on your knees, Honey, I'm beggin' you please: Pray for me. Pray for me-e-e, Saint Shannon. I know He don't like what He sees; So, please talk to that man with the keys. Pray for me. Pray for me-e-e, Saint Shannon. I ain't a white dove on a perch, But I've seen the inside of a church. I just don't make it there ever' Sunday. I drink the juice of the grape; Wake up with a bad headache; Tell the priest it's okay to start without me. Sweetie, I know you don't lie; Just tell Him I'm a hell of a guy And how sad Heaven would be without me. You're my one shot into that place; He won't say no to your angel face. Pray for me. Pray for me-e-e, Saint Shannon. I won't get to second base Without Miss Shanapay on my case. Pray for me. Pray for me-e-e, Saint Shannon. I need you, Shannon.
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