The Season That Never Ends
I had hoped that there'd be no more Christmas parodies this year; but no. Since yesterday afternoon, Berlin's White Christmas has begotten the following (with throwaway verse):
The bells are ringing;
The lights are lit;
The shopkeepers block the square;
The carolers rend the air:
It's more than a soul can bear!
We've got to keep Christmastide at bay;
And yes, Virginia, there is a way—
Let's organize a red Christmas,
A Tarantino sort of Yule:
When you cleave Bob Cratchit,
Eschew the hatchet;
Instead—use a power tool.
Let's organize a red Christmas—
Go out and vivisect an elf.
Take the gas can down from the shelf,
And set fire to Santa Claus himself.
Lyric © 2005 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov
The bells are ringing;
The lights are lit;
The shopkeepers block the square;
The carolers rend the air:
It's more than a soul can bear!
We've got to keep Christmastide at bay;
And yes, Virginia, there is a way—
Let's organize a red Christmas,
A Tarantino sort of Yule:
When you cleave Bob Cratchit,
Eschew the hatchet;
Instead—use a power tool.
Let's organize a red Christmas—
Go out and vivisect an elf.
Take the gas can down from the shelf,
And set fire to Santa Claus himself.
Lyric © 2005 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov
posted by npetrikov at 8:59 AM
1 Comments:
You found it inquisitive, did you, louiserickson6002--if that, indeed, is your name?
According to Damon Runyon, if you ask questions, people may get the idea that you wish to know something. I've always thought that truer words were never spoken, and have done my darnedest not to ask any questions whatever. And now you come along, calling me inquisitive! It's enough to make a bloke turn his face to the wall.
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