[Roy Hamilton]

Hi Henrietta,

How about: "The Little King" ?

Roy

Editing in: I doubt that your deft hand needs a title from me! So if that question was rhetorical never mind. lol

[This message has been edited by Roy Hamilton (edited December 19, 2007).]

[Frank Hubeny]

Another reconstructed early draft of a beloved classic:

Jingle Bells,
Your fart smells.
Where'd ya get those beans?
Oh, what fun!
I'll eat just one
And blast apart my jeans.

[Marion Shore]

Oh no, Frank! Dragging down the level of humor the way I did on the Sylvia Beach thread! Tsk Tsk!

Anyone remember this one?

Jingle bells
Santa smells
50 miles away!
You better get your cootie shots
before he comes your way!

[Frank Hubeny]

Just four more days to Christmas, Marion! I won't be able to top your achievement in the Sylvia Beach thread. That was amazing.

Here's another Jingle Bells one.


Jingle Bells,
Wow! Wii sells!
Nintendo has a hit.
Oh, what fun!
My kids want one.
(I'll also play with it.)

[David Landrum]

On Christmas as a Non-Religious Holiday

Don't let the festive trappings ail ya--
It used to be the Saturnalia.

[Anne Bryant-Hamon]

Not exactly 'Christmas-y' - but I wanted to iron this one out a little and give it an airing ... This one has just been edited slightly compared to a version that was already previously published.

In His Peaceable Kingdom

The raging wrath of man
is never satisfied
it burns day after day
in the valley of Hinnom;
even in the burning heap
the worm can never die
as long as there is flesh
to feed the festering flames.

The eagles gather 'round
for a great and ghastly feast
and when they're quite well filled
then perhaps it can be called
the last supper -

eaten as the sun goes down,
down to the valley - the valley of dry bones,
down to the valley - the valley of death,
down to the valley of the skull
where the restless thoughts of men
find rest.

When the sea is finally still,
her waves no longer tossed,
her soul no longer lost,
then the earth will have joined her mate
on the Lord's mysterious consummation date.

When the rage of man is dead,
it may then, of a truth, be said
that a Lover has found His Bride
and she may forever abide
in His Peaceable Kingdom.

Anne Bryant-Hamon

[Frank Hubeny]

Her Christmas Presents

Alice is a big girl now.
She's getting her first gun.
At four, her poppa's very proud.
Her whispers won't be very loud
So those wild things won't run,
But wait in peace while they both aim
And turn live deer into dead game.

She still gets dolls, but, anyhow,
Her gun is pink, her Gods are good,
And life looks just the way it should.

[Frank Hubeny]

Anne, I liked your eagles' last supper -- and the worms. Here's one that's a tad on the dark side, too.


An Invading Soldier's Silent Night

Christmas, wild and wicked, come,
As well-armed soldiers kill, we pray.
Death, your wicked worms are dumb
Nor would we hear what they would say.




[This message has been edited by Frank Hubeny (edited December 24, 2007).]

[David Landrum]

Here's a more hopeful song about soldiers and Christmas. This is done by folk singer John McCutcheon and is based on a true incident that occurred during World War I. I think Paul McCartney has a song based on this incident as well. Long but worth reading.

dwl


Contributed by ø John McCutcheon

The Christmas Truce of 1914 on the Western and Eastern Fronts may well represent the last time that the face of humanity would been seen in what was rapidly becoming the ultimate nightmare of the industrial revolution. The concept of total war would soon replace any outdated notion of chivalry.


Christmas in the Trenches

by John McCutcheon

My name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool.
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here
I fought for King and country I love dear.
'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung,
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung
Our families back in England were toasting us that day
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.

I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound
Says I, "Now listen up, me boys!" each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.
"He's singing bloody well, you know!" my partner says to me
Soon, one by one, each German voice joined in harmony
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more
As Christmas brought us respite from the war

As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent
"God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" struck up some lads from Kent
The next they sang was "Stille Nacht." "Tis 'Silent Night'," says I
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky
"There's someone coming toward us!" the front line sentry cried
All sights were fixed on one long figure trudging from their side
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shown on that plain so bright
As he, bravely, strode unarmed into the night

Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's Land
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own
Young Sanders played his squeezebox and they had a violin
This curious and unlikely band of men

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more
With sad farewells we each prepared to settle back to war
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wonderous night
"Whose family have I fixed within my sights?"
'Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost, so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung
For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone forevermore

My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell
Each Christmas come since World War I, I've learned its lessons well
That the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame
And on each end of the rifle we're the same

© 1984 John McCutcheon - All rights reserved

[Catherine Chandler]

Prayer on December 26th

We line up early, push and shove,
corral the cut-rate things we love,
forget the price You had to pay,
the cost incurred but yesterday.

And as we reach the check-out rows
with next year's tinsel, bells and bows,
forgive us that our vision fails
to see beyond the red-tag sales.


Best wishes for a peaceful holiday season.
Catherine Chandler
Punta del Este, Uruguay