Here we come a-caroling | VailDaily.com
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Here we come a-caroling

Barry Smith

I get nostalgic during the holidays, all misty and wistful for the bygone days when we used to gather ’round the Yule log and make up new, often inappropriate words for timeless and heartwarming Christmas songs.

Things haven’t really changed that much, except these days I don’t sit around an actual Yule log, but I do spend a lot of time at yulelog.org.

I’m dreaming of a white trash Christmas

Warm Santa cookies baked with lard

For a Schlitz I’m reachin’, and children screechin’

Domestic disturbances in the yard

I’m dreaming of a white trash Christmas

With every restraining order I write

May your mounted bass sing through the night

And may all y’alls relatives be white

Oh! You better watch your mouth,

you better not malign,

Better not say “Da Bomb”

On the telephone line:

Dubya Claus is coming to town!

He’s making a list,

He’s checking it twice,

Installing a hidden surveillance device

Dubya Claus is coming to town!

He sees you when you’re surfing,

He reads e-mails you send,

He monitors your cell phone calls,

And “interrogates” your friends!

So!

You better watch your front,

You better watch your back

He’ll whisk you away with the Patriot Act,

Dubya Claus is coming to town!

“He Screamed at a Stranger” (To the tune of “Away in a Manger”)

He screamed at a stranger, he swore and he slurred

Our once beloved Kramer yelled out the N-word

He yelled it and yelled it ’til blue in the face

Then slinked off the stage having pissed off a race

We can’t look away, we can’t help ourselves

The Seinfeld DVD sets fly off of the shelves

Blame improv passion, or hate or cocaine

Poor Kramer’s not master of his own domain

It’s beginning to look a lot like an isthmus

Every time I check

My hair just stopped growing on the top

But I still have to shave my neck

It’s beginning to look a lot like an isthmus

Curse this family gene

Though it’s no surprise, now I realize

I’m no longer nineteen

I’ll be stoned for Christmas;

You can count on me.

Please have chips and salsa dips

And a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

Christmas Eve will find me

Watching old cartoons.

Yes, I’ll be stoned for Christmas

Just like I’ve been since June.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!

How are thy leaves so verdant!

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

I should probably look up “verdant!”

This song is lame as it can be

I’m singing to a goddam tree

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

I hope no one is looking!

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

I bought you in a parking lot!

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

That takes some of the mystique out of you!

This song is worse than a tour of ‘Nam

At least I don’t call you a “Tannenbaum”

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,

I still don’t know what “verdant” means!

Read more about Barry Smith on his blog, barrysmith.wordpress.com.


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