The latest Christmas song to be modernized in our household is to the tune "Deck the Halls" and goes:
Deck the halls with poison ivy
Fa la la la la, la la la la
There is no second verse
Fa la la la la, la la la la
Break a window, pop a tire, set your wafflemaker on fire
Fa la la la la, la la la la
The concluding verse is not complete
Fa la la la la, la la la la*
As usual, I tried to maintain a serious look on my face and correct the boys by saying "Why do you continue to ruin perfectly good Christmas song lyrics?"
To which, my oldest, with all seriousness, replied "We're boys. What do you expect?"
Um. A modicum of decor. A little self-restraint. Lyrics that wouldn't embarrass nuns. Nothing Earth-shattering, really.
I realize kids aren't perfect angels. Heaven knows they aren't the spawn of perfect parents. But, sometimes, I think they must have a little devil on their shoulders.
I know this devil hasn't taken up residence because they've all, save The Babe who doesn't quite get it yet, accepted Jesus into their hearts.
But, just for good measure, I checked all their near-bald heads today.
No 666 on any scalps.
WHEW. (That's me. Breathing a big sigh of relief.)
*Christmas-carol-writers around the world are not shaken, nor stirred, by this rendition, nor do they feel the need to get to work, based on the Nowell boys complete lack of writing ability.
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