The White Wait's Song

This is a parody of Lewis Carroll's "The White Knight's Song".  A "wait" is a caroler.

I'll tell thee everything I can,
    And I will not be mute.
I saw an aged aged man
    A-coming down a chute.
"Who are you, aged man?" I asked.
    "And how is it you give?"
And his answer trickled through my head
    Like water through a sieve.

He said, "I overlook the elves
    That makes the Christmas toys:
I make them put them on the shelves
    With elegance and poise.
I give them unto kids," he said,
    "That behave very well,
"While they are sleeping in their beds—
    I give, and do not sell."

But I was thinking of a plan
    To paint the evergreen
 Pink, and put it in a can
    So it could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
    To what the old man said,
I cried, "Come, tell me how you give!"
    And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:
    He said, "I go my way
Through snow and sleet and rain and hail
    Driving a flying sleigh;
And then I go from roof to roof
    (Avoiding the church spire),
And tumble down the chimney—poof!—
    And hope there's not a fire!"

But I was thinking of a way
    To feed on snip-snap-dragons
Until too fat to fit a sleigh
    Or fit the largest wagons.
I shook him well from side to side
    Until his face was blue:
"Come, tell me how you give," I cried,
   "And what it is you do!"

He said, "I teach reindeer to fly
    To a tremendous height,
And reach the summit of the sky
    In the silent night.
And these fly all around the earth
    Carrying Christmas toys,
Their work is to spread joy and noise,
    But with but little noise.

"I sometimes put candy in socks
    And clothes beneath the tree—
But naughty kids get only rocks
    And coal and ash from me.
And that's the way" (he gave a wink)
    "By which I spread my wealth—
And very gladly will I drink
    Your Honor's noble health."

I heard him then, for I had just
    Completed my design
For making snowmen out of dust
    To give my valentine.
I thanked him much for telling me
    The way he spread his wealth,
But chiefly for his wish that he
    Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er I chance to hear
    Jingle bells softly played,
Or madly shoot a leaping deer,
    Or kiss the dairy maid
Under a sprig of mistletoe
    Because she is so cute,
I laugh, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know—
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was was nothing like a crow,
Whose eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his "ho!",
Who rocked his body to and fro,
Who muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth was full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo——
That Christmas evening long ago,
    A-coming down a chute.

Beautiful Pine

This is a parody of Lewis Carroll's "Beautiful Soup".

Beautiful Pine, so rich and green,
Waiting patient to be seen!
How the lights upon you shine!
Pine of the holiday, beautifil Pine!
        Beau—ootiful Pie—ne!
        Beau—ootiful Pie—ne!
Pie—ne of the ho-o-liday,
        Beautiful, beautiful Pine!

Beautiful Pine! Who cares for you?
Everybody, that is who!
Those who see you with delight cry. N
obody hates you, beautiful Pine!
        Beau—ootiful Pie—ne!
        Beau—ootiful Pie—ne!
Pie—ne of the ho-o-liday,
        Beautiful, beauti—FUL PINE!

The Reindeer-Quadrille

This is a parody of Lewis Carroll's "The Lobster-Quadrille".

"Will you fly a little faster?" said old Santa to the deer,
"There's a storm-cloud close behind us, and the lightning bolts I fear.
See how eagerly the elves pray that the thunder will not last.
They are pressing the sleigh forward—will you fly a little fast?
Will you, won't you, will you won't you, will you fly a little fast?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you fly a little fast?

"You can really have no notion how dangerous it will be
When the lightning strikes around us with dread electricity!"
But the deer replied, "Too fast, too fast!" as the storm clouds amassed,
Said they'd follow Santa blindly but they wouldn't fly that fast,
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not fly a little fast.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not fly a little fast.

"What matters it how fast we go?" the flying reindeer plied,
"There is another calm, you know, upon the other side.
The further we go in the storm, the sooner it is passed.—"
"Please don't go so slow," old Santa said, "But fly a little fast—
Will you, won't you, will you won't you, will you fly a little fast?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you fly a little fast?"

Twinkle, Twinkle Rotund Saint

This is a parody of Lewis Carroll's "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Bat", which is in turn a parody of the first verse of Jane Taylor's "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star".

Twinkle, twinkle rotund saint!
How I wonder what you ain't.
Up above the world so high,
With the reindeer in the sky.
              Twinkle, twinkle—

Crib of Corn

In most countries "corn" refers to some kind of grain other than maize.

No cradle but a crib of corn.
The wool that from the sheep was shorn
provided him something to wear
To keep him warm. A single tear
fell from his mother's eye when he
screamed and wailed and wept, for she
did not know why. Did he need changed?
Or fed? Or his bed re-arranged?
Yet all seemed right. Perhaps he saw
the day he would show his meat raw,
his flesh impaled upon a stake.
Perhaps he just had a headache.
Perhaps he felt a bit forlorn—
no cradle but a crib of corn.

The Black Madonna

        Her skin is dark.
        And was it so?
        I do not know
the shade—the birch's or oak's bark.

        Her skin is black.
        And was it thus?
        She is all us
who mother God in our heart's shack.

        Our every shade—
        the dark and light,
        black, red, brown, white,
yellow, dwelt in that lovely maid.

        Give birth to Christ
        and join with her.
        The shade of her
is your own shade. Give birth to Christ.