It begins in October and runs through November,
And really starts hitting its stride in December.
And even when Christmas is gone, it would seem
It will take two more weeks just to run out of steam.
You should swallow your grumbling and banish that sneer:
It’s the jolliest twenty per cent of the year.

Don’t be sad, don’t be mad, don’t be gloomy, don’t frown;
Don’t let plastic and tinsel start getting you down;
Don’t let chaser lights make you psychotic, or scream
At the Virgin who shines with an LED gleam.
No, just widen your smile with each sleigh bell you hear:
It’s the jolliest twenty per cent of the year.

When you think you’re so sodden with jingle-bell joy
That you’ll cave in the head of the next drummer boy
Who ba-rum-bum-bum-bums into your field of view,
Just remember, the season is not about you.
For the big corporations who sell us our cheer,
It’s the jolliest twenty per cent of the year.


  1. C. Simon says:

    Dear Sir,

    Hallow ‘Een just called. Afraid the call was rather angry, for the man says he has his own 15% of the year, set aside to make jolly over everything morbid, rancid, tasteless, ghastly, and horrid. But your song, Sir, goes on like his rightful portion of the calendar (and a large portion, too!) does not even exist. What are you at, Sir?

  1. […] What He Said Posted by mythusmage on 18 December 2011, 5:42 pm A CHRISTMAS SONG. « Dr. Boli’s Celebrated Magazine.. […]

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