Tag Archives: Song

Merry Christmas Everybody (lyrics)

The ultimate song  about a British Christmas:

 

 

Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall?
It’s the time that every Santa has a ball
Does he ride a red nosed reindeer?
Does a ton-up on his sleigh?
Do the fairies keep him sober for a day?

So here it is Merry Christmas
Everybody’s having fun
Look to the future now
It’s only just begun.

Are you waiting for the family to arrive?
Are you sure you got the room to spare inside?
Does your granny always tell ya
That the old songs are the best
Then she’s up and rock and rollin’ with the rest?

So here it is Merry Christmas
Everybody’s having fun
Look to the future now
It’s only just begun.

What will your daddy do when he sees
Your mama kissin’ Santa Claus
Ah ah

Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall?
Are you hoping that the snow will start to fall
Do you ride on down the hillside
In a buggy you have made?
When you land upon your head
Then you bin slayed.

So here it is Merry Christmas
Everybody’s having fun
Look to the future now
It’s only just begun.

 

IT’S CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITSMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS!!!!!!!
With love to Noddy Holder and Slade, for my favourite Christmas song (although for my sons, The Beach Boys Christmas Album reigns supreme, and we always play it when decorating the tree).

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Waiting for the Great Leap Forwards

I posted a long time ago about the beuaty and poetry of many song lyrics.  Just appraciate the rhythm and effortless rhyme of the incomparable Billy Braggs ‘Waiting for the Great Leap Forwards’:

It may have been Camelot for Jack and Jacqueline
But on the Che Guevara highway filling up with gasoline
Fidel Castro’s brother spies a rich lady who’s crying
Over luxury’s disappointment
So he walks over and he’s trying
To sympathize with her but he thinks that he should warn her
That the Third World is just around the corner
In the Soviet Union a scientist is blinded
By the resumption of nuclear testing and he is reminded
That Dr. Robert Oppenheimer’s optimism fell
At the first hurdle
In the Cheese Pavilion and the only noise I hear
Is the sound of someone stacking chairs
And mopping up spilt beer
And someone asking questions and basking in the light
Of the fifteen fame filled minutes of the fanzine writer
Mixing pop and politics he asks me what the use is
I offer him embarrassment and my usual excuses
While looking down the corridor
Out to where the van is waiting
I’m looking for the great leap forwards
Jumble sales are organized
And pamphlets have been posted
Even after closing time there’s still parties to be hosted
You can be active with the activists
Or sleep in with the sleepers
While you’re waiting for the great leap forwards
One leap forward, two leaps back
Will politics get me the sack?
Here comes the future and you can’t run from it
If you’ve got a blacklist I want to be on it
It’s a mighty long way down rock ‘n roll
From Top of the Pops to drawing the dole
If no one seems to understand
Start your own revolution and cut out the middleman
In a perfect world we’d all sing in tune
But this is reality so give me some room
So join the struggle while you may
The revolution is just a tee shirt away
Waiting for the great leap forwards

by Billy Bragg

Songwriter: STEPHEN WILLIAM BRAGG
© Universal Music Publishing Group

I remember Pogo-ing and yelling the lyrics at many a Bragg gig…….

 

Orignal Video:

Updated lyrics and performance at

A song about nothing

Here’s a song about absolutely nothing:
It’s not about me,
Not about anyone else;
Not about love.
Not about being young,
Not about anything else either.

It came to me while I was asleep,
Riding along on my horse.
I don’t know exactly when I was born.
I’m not happy,
I’m not angry.
I’m not a stranger here…
I don’t belong here.

I can’t help being like this,
I was made like it by a fairy upon a mountaintop.
I don’t know if I’m asleep or awake
Unless someone tells me.
My heart’s almost broken,
It’s so sad…
And all this doesn’t matter a mouse to me.
I swear it, by St. Martial!

I love someone… I don’t know who she is
Because I’ve never seen her;
She hasn’t done anything to please me or to upset me
And I don’t care.
I’ve never seen her, but I love her truly.
She is not yet done what she should to me, or what she shouldn’t.
When I don’t see her, then I’m happy.
She’s not worth a cock to me
Because I know someone who’s gentler and prettier,
And richer as well…

I don’t know where she lives,
Whether up in the heights or down in the fields.
I daren’t tell you the wrongs she does me,
It hurts me too much
And it hurts me to stay here,
So I’m leaving!

I’ve made the poem. I don’t know what’s it about.
I’m going to send it to someone
Who’ll send it with someone else,
To someone over in Anjou:
Perhaps he’ll be able to send me the key from his little box
and unravel this riddle.

Guillaume IX, Duke of Aquitaine and VIIth Count of Poitiers
(22 October 1071 – 11 February 1127)

 

I recently wrote a poem about nothing, then realised what I had, in some form plagarised, although my poem is not as funny as this one.