We’ve sung these songs before, These Silent Nights, these Gaudetes – We’ll sing these songs for evermore, I’m sure, All Christmas Days – Pious in their message, Dressed in angels at the manger – And how familiar they are, And not a one a stranger.
But in a thousand years from now, Shall these songs still be heard ? You have my word…
But other songs exist, Like Deck The Halls, like Jingle Bells, That long were added to our list, Persisting each Nowell. Joyful in their scoring, While ignoring Mary’s son – And how familiar they are, When sung by ev’ryone.
But in a thousand years from now, Shall these still stop the show ? I think we know…
And ev’ry year come songs, These All I Wants, these Fairytales – But will they still be sung-along so strong, Or will they fail ? Hopeful in their jingle, Mingling underneath the tree – But how familiar they are, We’ll have to wait and see.
So in a thousand years from now, Shall we remember still ? I think we will…
Who’s that in our garden, hey To sing on Christmas Day ? A chirpy robin redbreast Who has come to lead the way.
Who’s that in our garden, hey To sing on Christmas Day ? The cooing of a pigeon Who will counterpoint our lay, And a chirpy robin redbreast Who has come to lead the way.
Who’s that in our garden, hey To sing on Christmas Day ? The croaking of a crow To bring the bass beneath the fray, With the cooing of a pigeon Who will counterpoint our lay, And a chirpy robin redbreast Who has come to lead the way.
Who’s that in our garden, hey To sing on Christmas Day ? The drumming of a woodpecker Who’s beating on the bay, With the croaking of a crow To bring the bass beneath the fray, And the cooing of a pigeon Who will counterpoint our lay, And a chirpy robin redbreast Who has come to lead the way.
Who’s that in our garden, hey To sing on Christmas Day ? A choral flock of starlings Who arrive to dance and play, And the drumming of a woodpecker Who’s beating on the bay, And the croaking of a crow To bring the bass beneath the fray, And the cooing of a pigeon Who will counterpoint our lay, And a chirpy robin redbreast Who has come to lead the way.
Who’s that in our garden, hey To sing on Christmas Day ? A bright soprano blackbird With an awful lot to say, With a choral flock of starlings Who arrive to dance and play, And the drumming of a woodpecker Who’s beating on the bay, And the croaking of a crow To bring the bass beneath the fray, And the cooing of a pigeon Who will counterpoint our lay, And a chirpy robin redbreast Who has come to lead the way.
Who’s that in our garden, hey To sing on Christmas Day ? A special guest-star parakeet Who’s song is here to stay, With a bright soprano blackbird With an awful lot to say, And a choral flock of starlings Who arrive to dance and play, And the drumming of a woodpecker Who’s beating on the bay, And the croaking of a crow To bring the bass beneath the fray, And the cooing of a pigeon Who will counterpoint our lay, And a chirpy robin redbreast Who has come to lead the way.
I asked AI for impressionistic carollers, but they just look blotchy…
The Lantern Carol
There may have been snow, There were surely scarves, As they stood on the corner Beneath the stars. They may have had sheets, But they knew the words – And the harmonies That they sang in thirds. And we hurried on by, But we heard their songs – The old familiar Sing-it-alongs. In a pool of light, They played their role – Under the lantern Hung on a pole.
And their breath was hung With the notes they sung, As a frosty white, By the lantern’s swaying light.
There may have been snow, There were surely mitts, As they stood on the corner Singing the Ritz. They may have had sheets, But they knew the text, And no hesitation On which comes next. And we hurried on by, But we heard their cheer – The old familiar End-of-the-year. In a pool of light, Their heart and soul – Under the lantern Hung on a pole.
And their breath was warm With the notes they form, In the inky night By the lantern’s only light.
Round and round we orbit As the days grow short and chill. But we’ve turned the Winter’s corner, And we’ve started up the hill. We’re close to perihelion, The Cold Moon lights the frost, And the dawn is a chameleon Once Solstice has been crossed.
One Is the circle and Two Is the line and Three Is the trilith and Four Is the sign. The planets and skies Are alive with their play, As the new Sun shall rise On the shortest-long day.
So gather round the sarsens, As we welcome back the Sun, While the druids and the parsons Offer tales on why we’ve spun. We’re close to Heaven’s hinter, As the Dog Star watches over, So let’s raise a toast to Winter And the sleeping of the clover.
One Is the Sun and Two Is the Moon and Three Is the midnight and Four Is the noon. The planets and wives Are all dancing away, Yet the dawn still arrives On the shortest-long day.
I’ve always been disappointed with Stonehenge, in the same way that I’m disappointed with a ruined castle – forever second-rate compared with the grandeur it once possessed. With Stonehenge, we really need to build a new one nearby to show it at its best.
Keep eyes on me, I’m going places, Just you see, I’m leaving traces. Mine is one of those faces That keeps popping into view – Who knows where next it graces, But it sure looks somewhere new. So you’ll be seeing me around, Up and down about the town, Floating in a gown, Or running to the races. And if I’ve got you aching In anticipation – don’t get fraught – It’s simply means it’s taking Just a little longer than I thought.
Here comes fame And due attention – Remember my flame, It’s getting a mention. Mine is a claim in ascension, On your lips without your knowing. It’s a name of my own invention, And its eloquence keeps on growing. So you’ll be hearing it around, Standing-out and upwards-bound, Singing-out its sound, In highly-strung suspension. And if I leave you breaking, In exasperation – don’t just mope – It’s simply means it’s taking Just a little longer than I’d hope.
The curtain’s hanging over us, This is our final scene. We hope our lines are close enough And energies still keen. We’ve just the time for one last turn Before we take our bows – For any encores that we earn, And management allows.
The future’s big in front of us, It starts tomorrow-dawn, And so, for all we grunt and cuss, Our brand-new lives are born. We’ve barely time to learn our parts Before we take our chance, And who knows where the future charts ? It’s one long song-and-dance.
What on Earth to do today ? Bake a cake or fill a pew ? The night is sweet, but far away – We ought to sleep, we ought to play. We’ve been to ev’ry cabaret – That’s why we’re feeling blue.
If things don’t change, I swear, Then I’ll snarl and scream and sob. I’m lost and going spare, And all my corn is off the cob. It’s more than anyone can bear, My head is in a throb.
What on Earth to do today ? To read a book or tour the zoo ? The Sun is out, the prospect grey – We ought to go, we ought to stay. We’ve done it all, and never pay – There must be something new.
If things don’t change, I swear, If we don’t quit the usual mob, Then I’ll start a love affair With a Cleetus or Jim-Bob Anything, I just don’t care – I’ll even get a job !
Rhyming Couplets 