The Advent Carol
Who’s behind the first door ?
The solstice is behind the first,
The time the winter Sun is at his least.
Who’s behind the second door ?
The Sun again – the Sun reborn,
Who ushers in the great Midwinter feast.
Who’s behind the third door ?
The Holly and the Ivy are,
The evergreens who never drop their cloaks.
Who’s behind the fourth door ?
The Mistletoe ! The Mistletoe !
The green and living soul of sleeping oaks.
Day-by-day, let us remember –
These are the days of December.
Who’s behind the fifth door ?
Osiris, Mithra, Herakles,
And Zarathustra – age-old gods and myths.
Who’s behind the sixth door ?
The same Gods and their Virgin Births –
And each is born upon the 25th
Who’s behind the seventh door ?
The ancient and be-sandal’d Greeks,
Engaged in boozy Bacchanalia.
Who’s behind the eighth door ?
The ancient Roman copycats,
Engaged in likewise Saturnalia.
Day-by-day, let us remember –
These are the days of December.
Who’s behind the ninth door ?
It’s Nicholas, the bishop-saint
Who secretly leaves presents for the poor.
Who’s behind the tenth door ?
White of beard and furred of robe –
It’s Odin ! God of gifts and God of war.
Who’s behind the eleventh door ?
It’s Yuletide, when the Wild Hunt charges,
Through the sky and through the feasting halls.
Who’s behind the twelfth door ?
That’s Sleipnir, Odin’s flying steed,
Who lets him drop down chimneys when he calls.
Day-by-day, let us remember –
These are the days of December.
Who’s behind the thirteenth door ?
It’s Father Christmas, dressed in green,
While feasting heartily and draining beer.
Who’s behind the fourteenth door ?
Dasher, Dancer, Thomas Nast,
To bring about the reigning of the reindeer.
Who’s behind the fifteenth door?
The Ghosts of Dickens’ Christmas show
That even bustling London has its pause.
Who’s behind the sixteenth door ?
It’s Haddon Sundblom, illustrator,
Painting Coca-Cola’s Santa Claus.
Day-by-day, let us remember –
These are the days of December.
Who’s behind the seventeenth door ?
It’s Prince Albert’s Tannenbaum –
He’s bringing back the good old Christmas Tree.
Who’s behind the eighteenth door ?
It’s lots and lots of Christmas Cards,
Showing scenes of seasonality.
Who’s behind the nineteenth door ?
It’s Oxford Street illuminations,
Well-dressed window-shopping costs us nothing.
Who’s behind the twentieth door ?
A Turkey ! Waiting for the chop
With roasties, Yorkshires, bread sauce, sprouts, and stuffing !
Day-by-day, let us remember –
These are the days of December.
Who’s behind the twenty-first door ?
It’s robin redbreasts in the snow –
Though never three together, as a rule.
Who’s behind the twenty-second door ?
A Crib from a Nativity,
As seen on stage in ev’ry prim’ry school.
Who’s behind the twenty-third door ?
Her Majesty, with speech in hand,
Addressing all the little folks to carry on.
Who’s behind the twenty-fourth door ?
It’s Christmas Number One ! Our song !
We know the words, so once more sing along:
Day-by-day, let us remember –
These are the days of December.
And finally, the twenty-fifth,
So open up and see –
Why look, it’s Mum and Dad, and Gran,
And You, and You, and Me.
