|
9 |
Put the cottas on the servers,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Check their cassocks, don’t be nervous.
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Trim their wicks once you are vested.
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Yet no more – you’ll get arrested.
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Tune: Deck the Halls. Trad.
|
|
13 |
I
wonder how I’ll wander, my pencil in hand,
In themes incarnational, images grand.
A full congregation, a wonderful sight!
I wonder how I’ll wander in my sermon that night.
I’ll start with a story, and make them feel good.
Then mention the manger, as everyone should.
A personal anecdote, maybe one more.
The Vicar must never his listeners bore.
Just mention the baby, and heavenly choirs,
Then somehow get round to our earthly desires.
But if their eyes glaze and you know that they’re lost,
Avoid
St. John’s Prologue whatever the cost!
Tune: Traditional Appalachian Carol
|
10 |
I saw
three priests come tripping in,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day,
I saw three priests come tripping in,
On Christmas Day in the morning.
And what was on their lips so gay,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day?
And what was on their lips so gay,
On Christmas Day in the morning?
“The masses are said, we’re off to lunch!”
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day.
“The masses are said, we’re off to lunch!”
On Christmas Day in the morning.
And what was in their hands so soft,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day?
And what was in their hands so soft,
On Christmas Day in the morning?
A glass of gin with bitters pink,
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day.
A glass of gin with bitters pink,
On Christmas Day in the morning.
They’ll sit and share a table fare,
On Christmas day, on Christmas Day.
With goose and turkey everywhere,
On Christmas Day in the morning.
Tune: Traditional English Carol |
|
14 |
In
the church each winter,
Doors are opened wide.
Holly, flowers and ivy,
Decorate inside.
Choirs have long since practiced
Carols French and old.
Candles beckon strangers in
From the cold.
“Welcome all, it’s Christmas,
Come and spend a while,
Listening to the music,
Telling of a child,
Born this day in Jewry,
Come to cast out fear.
No, the story hasn’t changed
Since last year.”
Come they, in their dozens,
Wrapped in fashions rare.
Masked by mints and perfume,
Their post-dinner stare.
Fumbling with the Prayer Book,
“Do we sit or kneel?”
Yet they come each year
So worship can appeal.
Tune: Cranham. IRREGULAR
|
|
11 |
Light the candles in
the parlour,
Fetch the oil lamps
from the shed,
As we start our
festive gala,
All the power has
gone dead.
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas,
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas cheer.
Place the crackers on
the table,
Wipe the dishes, set
them out,<
Lay each place whilst
we are able,
Pass the port and
stuff the gout.
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas,
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas cheer.
Roast the turkey,
make the stuffing,
Peel the spuds and
Brussel sprouts,
Rush around in
breathless puffing,
Making lots of gasps
and shouts.
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas,
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas cheer.
Now we sit for
Christmas dinner,
Plates piled high
with festive fare,
None of us will get
much thinner,
Let’s get stuffed,
for we don’t care.
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas,
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas cheer.
At the gate the poor
are huddled,
Waiting for the
scraps that fall
At the table,
thoughts are muddled,
Few remember them at
all.
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas,
Come and gather,
Gather round for
Christmas cheer.
Tune: Iris. (French
traditional melody)
|
|
15 |
Come, thou long expected presents!
On your shelves for me to see!
Santa’s here, it's time for shopping,
Please reveal yourself to me.
Christmas? No - such sentimental
Thoughts of seasons must decease.
This is now a time for selling,
So our profits can increase.
Tie it in with things like Kwanza,
Hannakah, all things with lights.
Snowmen, tinsel, ice-clad grottoes
Must become the High Street sights.
Sound our music, worship snowbells,
Let the children dance and play.
Let’s forget the Church’s season,
In our retail holiday!
(Tune: Cross of Jesus, John
Stainer)
 |
|
12 |
The server and the boat boy
To choose between the twain,
Of all the boys that we ever saw,
The boat boy has the grains.
O, the sweetness of the incense,
Be it Prinknash or Dumont;
The smoke will swirl on Christmas Eve
From altar to the font.The
thurifer's behind him,
With hand on shoulder slight,
To guide him towards the Rector
Who waits to start the rite!
O, the sweetness of the incense,
Be it Prinknash or Dumont;
The smoke will swirl on Christmas Eve
From altar to the font.
(Tune: Holly and the Ivy
Traditional) |
|
16 |
Tomorrow shall be my feasting day;
With slices of goose and a turkey fair
With trimmings, gravy and bread sauce,
And chipolatas if I dare.
(Refrain)
Sing, more! Yes please!
More, yes please, yes please!
I'll take some more, with carrots and
peasNo sermons to write, no
people to see;
No masses to celebrate, incense to
swing,
Just food and gifts and ruby port wine,
Preceded possibly by some gin.
(Refrain)
I'll push back the chair at five
minutes to three,
And slowly digest the plum pudding
supreme;
I'll hold a glass of Calvados cheer,
And watch the message from the Queen.
(Refrain)
(Tune: Traditional English) |
