Christmastime Is Here, By Golly

Ron, my DAMP, suggested to me yesterday that I try to shoehorn the word secular into a new version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I politely told him that it can't be did. Today a song did occur to me where it fitted: Livingston and Evans's Silver Bells. Here, then, is the roughest of rough drafts, particularly the last three lines:

From November
To December
Comes a season of mist:
It’s that Old-Fashioned Secular Christmas.
Tony Danza
Doing Kwănzaa
With a Japanese twist—
As peculiar as that may appear.

Infidels,
Infidels!
Screwing up Yule with a vengeance.
Hear me sing,
“Gimme spring!
Make Christmastime go away!”

Lyric © 2006 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

Needs a second verse and chorus, of course, but that will come.

Later in the day, I was folding laundry, when I ran across a pair of sweat pants that I'd never laid eyes on before. They were green, with a large picture of Oscar the Grouch on them. I asked The Kid, "Whence the trousers?" She had borrowed them, she said, from a friend. I muttered that it was a bit thick, expecting me to do Friend's laundry for her, and added that I thought Friend was a little too old for Oscar the Grouch, in any case. "No, Daddy," the Young Idea replied, "You're never too old for Oscar the Grouch." That, Dear Reader, is what we in the biz call a Song Cue:

You can get too big for riding a trike
Or training wheels attached to your bike;
You can get too big for Mama's old pouch,
But you're never too big for Oscar the Grouch.

You can outgrow cute pajamas with feet,
And baby food you no longer eat;
You can grow so tall that (sometimes) you crouch,
But you're never too grown for Oscar the Grouch.

When you're all grown up, you won't need a sitter;
You'll drink strong tea and not think it bitter;
When you take that shot
In a tender spot,
You'll never, ever say ouch.

You can be too old for dinner at 6:00
And building things with popsicle sticks;
But you'd best go find a psychiatrist's couch,
If you're ever too old for Oscar the Grouch.

Lyric © 2006 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

And, if you're wondering what tune to sing that to, don't ask me. For that, Best Beloved, is the very first lyric ever written by yours truly for which the music has yet to be composed.

So make up your own.