Painful childhood memories contribute to BLUE ALERT rap from Yabba in the syncopated “No Christmas.” So poor, there was no Christmas. Plus which, that’s Santa in blood; I’m killing them raindeers I don’t give a fuck As shot start to spray that 8 year old me. Hard times. Now she rich.
Goo Goo Dolls address the rockabilly to the naughtiest of eight year olds: “You Ain’t Gettin’ Nothin’.” Underage drinking, grand larceny, pet torture… i think 5 to ten would be more appropriate than nothin’. Super cool.
Matt Dorrien uses rose-colored glasses to “Sure Miss Those Days at Christmas.” Sure there was snow and tree shopping, but also Long ago when I was eight I can still remember My parents fought all holiday (All those broken dishes). Ironic easy listening pop.
Matthew West similarly asks Take me back to eight years old (These days Peace on Earth is hard to find). Strangely the pop “Hope of Christmas” is in simple prayer. Do eight-year-olds do it better?
Eight years old and in a wheelchair… in line to see Santa–holy cow! “Santa’s Prayer” by Doc Edwards and the Buffalo River Boys is a plodding country tear-jerker about the coma-bound trucker daddy. Holy Moley Cow!
Now a “Hat Made of Mistletoe” could be a creepy number, but Cody Johnson’s barn-burning fiddling and the childish revelation: Miss Darla, how you sparkle like a shiny new toy, And I know I’m just an eight year old lonesome cowboy leads us to be happy for the little entrepreneur. Yippee-kiss-ya.
Just as sure is the protagonist of Bruce Hornsby’s leader of the tree searching posse song: Such a strong boy could haggle too; Eight years old could arm wrestle you, Fast as a horse and slick as a snake; We’ll make it snappy and won’t be late. But this ragtime rocker becomes “Lost in the Snow,” and this little kid is dying…