Tore Open the Shutters and Threw Up the Spinach

Pulling on the beard is just one more thing that happens because of a “Bahumbug Baby” in Dave Tough’s indie-pop cautionary tale.

Grampa’s got one of those Santa beards in JJ Heller’s pop/folk “Christmastime.” Not sure what’s so traumatic, but she insists we’ll all be fine in a week or two.

The Heebee-jeebees may be confused when they seek someone to “Arrest This Bearded Gentleman.” (To the tune of ‘God Rest Ye’.) They don’t seem to understand who this guy is. But then, the theme to Gilligan’s Island rears up. What? Now i’m confused! Skip-per-r-r-r!

Beard of Good Cheer

Preston Penn lead with their chins in the children’s rock’n’roller “Santa’s Beard” from 1965. He always wears it, kids. In case you were wondering.

The Quaint & The Curious turn green (and incarcerated) over the comparisons betwixt their own and Santa’s. The ukulele easy listening plodding seems at odds with the unfairness that “Everyone Seems to Love Santa’s Beard.”

Whale Holiday Marching Band served up a song parody of Cake’s ‘Short Skirt/Long Jacket’ way back in ’01. “White Beard/Red Jacket” points to the prime features of the Great Giver. The Enablers and Friends wore it better in 2015.

Royalty Free Lyrics “The Ballad of Kris Kringle”

Let’s try rewriting an actual song! This was my Christmas card for 2023, and it caused some confusion as i never said in so many words that it was based on the ballad of the legendary John Henry, the steel driving man. Now, that’s a tune!

The Ballad of Kris Kringle

Kris Kringle was a little elfling
Sittin’ in zero degrees
He picked up a doll and (a) wooden choochoo
Said: ‘Toys’re gonna be the death of me, Lawd Lawd
Toys’re gonna be the death of me’

Jeff Bezos said to Kris Kringle:
‘Gonna bring that AI on shift,
Gonna bring ChatGPT on the job
Gonna outdeliver all your gifts, Lawd Lawd
Gonna outdeliver all your gifts’

Kris Kringle told ol’ Siri:
‘A Saint ain’t nothin’ but a man,
But before I let your block chain beat me
I’d die with a present in my hand, Lawd Lawd
I’d die with a present in my hand’

Kris Kringle said to his reindeer:
‘Rudolph, why don’t you sing?
I’m throwin’ down chimneys bikes and baby dolls,
Just listen to that sleigh bell ring, Lawd Lawd
Just listen to that sleigh bell ring’

Kris Kringle said to Google Bard: ‘Hey
Google, you’d better pray
‘Cause if you miss that little ghetto boy,
Tomorrow’ll be your buyout day, Lawd Lawd
Tomorrow’ll be your buyout day’

    Alexa said to Kris Kringle:
    ‘We think this chimney’s cavin’ in’
    Kris Kringle said to Amazon: ‘Hey, Man,
    That ain’t nothin’ but my reindeers zeroin’ in, Lawd Lawd
    That ain’t nothin’ but my reindeers zeroin’ in’

    The man that invented the Turing Test
    Thought he was mighty fine,
    But Kris Kringle made billions happy
    And SantaBot only handled nine, Lawd Lawd
    And SantaBot only handled nine

    Kris Kringle barnstormed the suburbs
    Delivery was striking fire
    But went so hard, he broke his sleigh’s harness
    He smashed up his reindeer and he died, Lawd Lawd
    He smashed up his reindeer and he died

    They took Kris Kringle to the North Pole
    And they buried him in the snow
    And every child’s mother comes along by
    Says: ‘There lies such a nice boy, Lawd Lawd’
    Says: ‘There lies such a nice boy’

    Well, every Christmas mornin’
    When the carolers start to sing
    You can hear Kris Kringle’s joy start to rise
    You can hear Kris Kringle jingling, Lawd Lawd
    You can hear Kris Kringle jingling

I originally started with the idea of Santa Claus vs. AI, because it’s everyone vs. AI here in The Digital ‘Twenties. The idea percolated (or festered) without going anywhere in particular for a few weeks. Then John Henry came to me from somewheres and I did that switch-words thing for a bit. So, here we are.

Royalty Free Lyrics “Those Bells”

Another fun idea generator (theft) is to grab a song or poem that you like or just know well and swap out some words or phrases to ‘parody’ some other idea. It beats coming up with everything on your own. While only moderately impressed with EA Poe’s needy, greedy body of work, i do lean in on his so-called ‘last poem.’ It’s great for high schoolers, ‘cuz it’s atmospheric, complex, and freakin’ nuts. I would read this aloud to a class, gathering speed, until i was red-faced and spittling. Wot fun.

Those Bells

!.

Hear the horses with their bells—
                 Jingle bells!
Signifiying Christmastime, they're better'n cowbells!
        How they jingle, jingle, jingle,
           While the beasts stay on the track!
        While the cold wind does its thingy
        All my fingers no more tingle
           Now I feel like a coatrack;
         Beating them, again,
         Against the wooden bench,
To the tinnitus and throbbing that so painfully swells
       Frozen bells, bells, bells, bells,
               Bells, those bells—
  Frozen jingling, endless jingling of those bells.

$$.

        Hear the house of worship bells,
                 Booming bells!
What a world of high tithing their insistency compels!
        Through the high mass at midnight
        How they test their acolytes!
           From the comfortable halls,
               And please stay calm,
           While they got you by the wall(et)
    To the altar boy with baskets, for your right
               To bear alms!
         Oh, from out of the pulpit,
What a gush of old phonies look like old hypocrites!
               How they smell!
               How they dwell
           Upon finance! Does it help
           To 'charge' more than they can 'sell'?
         To the bingeing and the cringing
           Of those bells, bells, bells,
         Of those bells, bells, bells, bells,
               And more bells—
  To the remand and the demand of those bells!

$$$.

         Hear sudden telephone bells—
                 Brazen balls!
What crock of wonders, with their hard-sell sales calls!
       To the startled bread winner
       How they interrupt dinner!
         Too much garrulous to hear,
         They can only sneer 'Sir',
                  In my ear,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of my cash,
In a slick appropriation of my dwindling, poor stash,
            Calling again, again, again,
            Let me take it in the den,
         Become a charity member
         Hey, how'd you get this number?
       By the front of the living room
            Oh, door bells, more bells!
            What a sale the students sell
                  Fund Raising!
       How they smile, and ask for more!
       What a story at my door
While the carolers also expect something!
       Yet the bank it fully knows,
            By the debits,
            And the credits,
         How the budget ebbs and flows;
       Yet the bank distinctly tells,
            In the expense,
            Of the statements.
       How the budget sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the number of those bills—
             Of those bills—
     Of those bills, bills, bills, bills,
            Bills, bills, bills—
 In correcting and collecting of those bills!

!$.

          Hear the totaling of these bells—
                 Cashier bells!
What a stupid spending spree their long receipt retells!
        In the chaos of the mall,
        How we shiver in thermals
  At the condescending toy-sound of Ka-ching!
        For every sack that's stuffed
        With pajamas and earmuffs
                 Is parting.
        And the censors—so much tenser—
       They that picket at the Spencer's
                 Some marching.
        And who strolling, trolling, rolling,
          In that short dress--eye catching,
         Feel it's boring to be standing
          Waiting in line for Santa—
     Elves are neither man nor woman—
     Elves are neither cute nor Tolkein—
              They are Temps:
        Their 'head elf' it is controls;
        And he trolls, trolls, trolls,
                    Trolls
             The long line from the elves!
          And his merry elf hat points
             To the next one he anoints!
          And he dances like he's twelve;
          Clocking overtime,
          On the shopping mall's fat dime,
             To the lineup of those elves—
               Of those elves:
          It's so asinine,
          He let short dress cut the line,
            To the winking of those elves—
          Of those elves, elves, elves—
            To the blinking of those elves;
          Keeping us in line,
            As he speaks, then spells,
          He can't even say your name,
            To the laughing of those elves—
          Of those elves, elves, elves—
            To the charging for photos,
      From those elves, elves, elves, elves—
              Elves, elves, elves—
  From the abuse of those obtuse little elves.

Whew. That took a minute. Original songwriting, it turns out, can be easier than stealing. I even think some of that was pretty good, though i’m not sure why i set in in 1991 (telemarketers? a phone extension in the den? the mall?). Now, as to its musicality… much has been made of the original Poe-m. I’ve even mentioned the cool folk Phil Ochs song of it in this blog before. Now i’ve discovered an Alan Parsons Project take on it–cuts fewer lines, though it is sonorous in its churchiness. I don’t believe i’ve ruined the musicality of the text by relieving myself on it. It plays itself.

Yuletide: Grog

Sailors work hard for their pay, and a ration of rum. Do they overindulge given the chance?

Christmas Card from a Drunken Sailor” is a gentle, almost soothing ballad from Rob Snarski. No F-bombs. Just regret.

What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor Early Christmas Morning?” asks the Windy City Gay Chorus. Frivolity ensues. And side-taking.

Not to be out-twisted, Alexander P. treats us to “What Shall We Do with a Drunken Santa?” The steps differ, and the tempo runs crazy. [Less imaginative, but Bee-you-ti-fully sung comes the Tawny Shantymen version.] [Amped up comes The Georgia Tech Glee Club with a rapid retelling.]

Yuletide: Tight Quarters

Is a boat the perfect place to party, or just another place to party? For Christmas, i mean. Or not.

Party the Hut & Friends chants out “Christmas on a Boat” like the party is in military formations. Swinging jazz rock.

Mark & The Mongrels reveal “Christmas on a Yacht” is an ideal never to be missed. They missed it. Indie mopeyness.

Time for a ‘Banana Boat’ parody! “A Latke Boat Song” from Merkel & The Merkelettes makes the holiday party a bit of a drudge. It happens. Drei-del!

Christmas Countdown: 40!

BLUE ALERT from Swansea Mosh complaining about the laziness of only working one day a year in “I Saw Santa Signing On“–a reference to applying for unemployment (with UB 40, Unemployment Benefits Form 40). Rocking the anger.

Prestomystic relieves the stress by “Jackin’ It on Christmas.” Light euphemistic profane-ness that fun, until he gets caught [Preston?–What’s up, what’s up–Are you okay in there It’s been like, forty minutes]. Pop music.

Perhaps an origin story, The Benefit & Chinese Firekites recount how a chance encounter (and being out like 40 bucks) results in the need to write a song, even though “Christmas Shoes (Will Kill the Mood)” on Christmas Day.

LadBaby has a series of parody songs featuring their fave-o British treat sausage rolls, all in the name of holiday charity raising [our expectations at the beginning was just to make Top 40, and-Raising funds for the food bank charity, the Trussell Trust]. “Don’t Stop Me Eating” might be the best of those parodies.

Christmas Countdown: 40˚

Scenic World has Christmas stress in “Green and Red,” a peppery pop tune about unrealized dreams [On to planet b] and unappreciated beauty [It’s 40 at best]. It’s short and sour. But, that’s the holidays.

Just keep it above forty fahrenheit demand Official Sidekick Productions in their surly satire “I Can’t Fly My Kite in the Snow.” Why so serious?

Christmas Countdown: 100$

Benjamins for Xmas! Destiny & Tommy (FT. THOMAS VELI, FAMOUS CHRIS & DIANNA VU) rap that they only want that hundy in their “Jingle Bells Remix.” Or you could put your head in a steel bucket and hit it with a hammer a hundred times.

Perky l’il blonde Katrina raps Oh yea my grandma came clutchShe gave me one hundred bucks(I’m rich, I’m rich) in “La Fa La.” Childish troubles AND behind the scenes footage.

Well, that’s GETTING… but what about giving? 100$ to a hooker?! Well, happily, that’s what Santa does to save a streetwalker from freezing on Christmas in “Ho Ho Ho” by The Dan Band. It’s a doo wop salvation story worth the listen.

Yo Gotti gives a bit differently. In “Wish List” [BLUE ALERT] this kingpin rapper dispenses Christmas bikes, TVs, drugs, and A hundred to the lawyer ’cause he goin’ for a appeal. Life is NOT cheap ’round here.

Stingy, however, is YunG HPC in his rappin’ “Grinch.” He’s sporting 100 coins BTC, but sharing nothing. Hey, that’s way more than dollars!

Also more is the cost of 100 quid faced by The Bar-Steward Sons of Val Doonican in their ‘American Pie’ parody “The Gasman Cometh.” Figures it’d be Christmas Eve (the day the boiler died)…. (Yea! Parody!!)