Fond of Countin' (Go Tell It On the Mountain, Traditional)

Google celebrates the Count today, so I will too, to the tune of Go Tell It On the Mountain.

Fond of Countin'

That fella's fond of countin'.
Gives him a thrill he longs to share.
That fella's fond of countin'.
He counts from eve to morn.

While other folks are sleeping,
He counts throughout the night.
He cackles "One, two, three, four,
Five, six" until daylight.

That fella's fond of countin'.
Gives him a thrill he longs to share.
That fella's fond of countin'.
He counts from eve to morn.

He looks just like a vampire,
But don't be scared away. 
He only wants to tell you
The Number of the Day.

That fella's fond of countin'.
Gives him a thrill he longs to share.
That fella's fond of countin'.
He counts from eve to morn.

Norbert the Ridge-Backed Dragon (Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Johnny Marks)

Here's a silly little ditty about Hagrid's pet dragon Norbert to the tune of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

Norbert the Ridge-Backed Dragon

You know Chinese and Swedish and Welsh ones are scary.
Horntail from Hungary tried to kill Harry.
But do you recall
The most fearsome dragon of all?

Norbert the ridge-backed dragon
Had a fire-breathing nose.
When the gamekeeper hatched him,
He ignited Hagrid's clothes.

All of the burns and scratches
Added up, and Hagrid knew
He had to banish Norbert,
Send him to a dragon zoo.

Then one balmy summer's eve,
Charlie Weasley said,
"Norbert's fine, and by the way,
It's Norberta, with an 'a'."

Hagrid was most astonished,
Crying in perplexity,
"Norbert the ridge-backed dragon,
How'd I miss that you're a she?"

Old Woolen Cap (Old City Bar, Paul O'Neill)

Well, it's been quite a year. Quite a month, too, in which I felt far more frazzled than I would like and have often found myself questioning my purpose in this world. I took a M*A*S*H personality survey a while back that determined the character I most resembled was Father Mulcahy. At the time, I was a bit disappointed I didn't get Radar, who's always been my favorite character on that show, which is one of the dearest to my heart. But the more I think about it, the more I think I am like Father Mulcahy, timid, mousy, well-intentioned but with a task far more nebulous than that of a surgeon or a company clerk. His job is ministry, but it's hard to measure the impact he has, hard to know if he's making any difference at all.

This filksong is in essence a retelling of the episode Dear Sis, which is creeping up to become possibly my all-time favorite episode of M*A*S*H. It's a tribute to Father Mulcahy and all those like him - and who hasn't questioned his or her usefulness now and again? But the important thing is that we persevere, doing whatever we feel is right and good for us to do as best we can. It's to the tune of Trans-Siberian Orchestra's Old City Bar, a gorgeous song that makes epic a small moment of human kindness.

May the end of the year be a blessed one for all of you, and here's to renewed inspiration and purpose in the coming year and all those that follow.

Old Woolen Cap

In the midst of a war
The doctors deplored
For the lives that were shattered
As boys became men,
Sat a chaplain, contrite,
Huddled sadly to write
A note to his sister,
Confessing his sin.

This war's toll was appalling.
The Father was falling
A victim to thoughts of inadequacy.
Surrounded by pain, he
Implored to see plainly
That he had brought light to someone in misery.

He was seething inside
When he fruitlessly tried
To subdue a young man
Enraged to the core.
When the boy dealt a blow,
The priest punched him, and so
Was filled with remorse,
And he loathed himself more

Agony stained his face
As he begged God for grace,
So he was a sad sight
At the party that night
Till the new guy in town,
Who'd been wearing a frown,
Got the gift the priest said
The clerk ought to send 'round.

Standing by, so beguiling,
Young Radar was smiling,
And Charles, who had spurned his superior air,
Said, eyes spilling over,
"You saved me. You lowered
A bucket into the well of my despair.
And you raised me up, Father, to the light of day."
Father John was so touched, didn't know what to say.
So he mused to himself, wholly humbled and awed,
How this old woolen cap brought his message from God.

And in this distant place, though he'd felt grim defeat,
Christmas never had tasted so filling and sweet.
Father John felt the light of that first Christmas star,
Unencumbered by doubts that had plagued him thus far.
He was only a man,
And he sometimes did wrong,
But at last he knew that he belonged.

Gentle Father Mulcahy,
On that winter's day,
Realized his importance and pledged to hold fast.
He silently savored
The fruits of his labor,
Having found in himself a good shepherd at last.

As the grateful priest smiled,
He remained unaware
That the Lord wasn't done
With His answer to prayer.
Then he heard as Hawkeye
Raised his voice and his drink
In a toast to a guy
Who helped souls not to sink.

And he lauded the way
Father John Patrick spread
Decency, how his strength
Helped disperse gloom and dread.
He called for a prayer
They sang earnestly:
"Dona nobis pachem."
Give us peace, give us peace.

As the snow began falling,
The wounded came calling.
While "give us peace" lingered like frost in the air,
The priest carried on. God had shown John
How a meek chaplain might lift a soul from despair.

O City of Metropolis (O Little Town of Bethlehem, Phillips Brooks / Lewis Redner)

Christmas is nearly upon us now, so I thought it would be a good time to post the first of two parodies that will serve as a sort of Christmas card from me. (In fact, I included this one in my physical Christmas card.) Given my obsession this year with Superman, I thought it might be nice if my Chistmas greetings (to the tune of O Little Town of Bethlehem) reflected that. Hope yours is very merry!

O City of Metropolis

O city of Metropolis,
I watch you as I fly.
Your problems all seem very small
From up here in the sky.
I hear your people pining
For me to make things right,
But riding on the wings of dawn,
You're such a peaceful sight.

This is my sanctuary.
I hover far above,
Forgoing sleep to calmly keep
An eye on those I love.
I float just like a feather
And yet am bound to Earth,
This realm of man more homelike than
The planet of my birth.

How violently, how violently
My rivals flaunt their sin.
I hope I can undo their plans,
But where do I begin?
Calamities keep coming.
My efforts wear me thin.
I come up here so I can clear
My head of all the din.

I pray for you, Metropolis -
Yes, Superman can pray,
For Krypton's son, for all he's done,
Can only save the day.
I know who holds tomorrow;
I hope you know as well.
Though I may be a hero, He's
The true Emmanuel.

Don't They Know It Isn't Even Fall? (Do They Know It's Christmas?, Bob Geldof / Midge Ure)

A week ago, I was delighted to discover that my favorite local radio station has decided to play nothing but seasonal music for the next month. Ever since, I've been tuning in as often as I can, and one of the songs that has really stuck with me is Do They Know It's Christmas?. So inevitably a song running through my head so much provided some inspiration. Thus a rousing anthem rallying the western world against hunger in Africa becomes a rant against the extension of the Christmas shopping season into ridiculously early territory. I guess it all boils down to consumerism either way...

Don't They Know It Isn't Even Fall?

It's summertime,
Coming up on Labor Day.
In summertime
The winter seems to be far away.
But once the aisles are emptied
Of the swimsuits and beach toys,
All the months will be a blur till Christmastime.

So please beware.
Preyed on by sugarplums,
Your bills will climb
Before December ever comes.
When you near those picture windows,
You will be paralyzed by fear
That the merchandise they're showing's
For the closing of the year.
After months of endless jingling,
Silver bells will make you blue,
And you'll want to shove Saint Nick back up that flue!

Though there won't be snow outside until November here,
The stores are decked with phony trees and lights.
Each blink of Rudolph's nose
Makes irritation grow.
Don't they know it isn't even fall?

Here's to waiting until Thanksgiving's done.
Here's to thinking anticipation's fun.
Don't they know it isn't even fall?

It's absurd.
It's absurd.
It's absurd selling ornaments in August.
It's absurd selling ornaments in August. 
It's absurd selling ornaments in August.
It's absurd selling ornaments in August.
It's absurd selling ornaments in August.
It's absurd selling ornaments in August.
It's absurd selling ornaments in August...

It's the Most Frightening Time of the Year (It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, Eddie Pola / George Wyle)

Hmm, who knew I still didn't have Halloween out of my system yet? I blame the line about "scary ghost stories." I always thought that was a rather strange inclusion... Anyway, I'm combining holidays here with It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. (Please note: I do not condone the lobbing of foreign objects at anyone's house on Halloween or otherwise. Thank you.)

It's the Most Frightening Time of the Year

It's the most frightening time of the year,
With the goblins and witches
And faces with stitches
And pointy green ears.
It's the most frightening time of the year.

It's the bat flappin'-est season of all,
With the crawlies and creepies
That make you lose sleep as
You stare at the wall.
It's the bat flappin'-est season of all.

There'll be mazes for haunting
And neighbors for taunting
With shaving cream, eggs and t.p.
There'll be much trick-or-treating
And candy for eating -
As long as it's wrapped properly!

It's the most frightening time of the year.
But halfway through November,
You'll stop and remember
The fun, not the fear.
It's the most frightening time
It's the most frightening time
It's the most frightening time
Of the year!

Turkish Delight (O Holy Night, Adolphe Adam / Placide Cappeau / John Sullivan Dwight)

Last year, the big Christmastime movie event was The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and as December quickly approaches again, I can't help but think of Narnia once more. This one's in Edmund Pevensie's voice to the tune of O Holy Night.

Turkish Delight

Turkish delight, so tasty and enticing.
It is the jewel of this Narnian north.
Soon will the queen, her sledge so swiftly slicing
Through sparkling snow, bring the prized sweeties forth?
She will, I hope, though I am disappointed
That I must take my siblings to her throne.

I would be pleased if I could be anointed.
Oh, I'd do fine if I ruled on my own,
And I'd eat Turkish delight, that treat divine!

Lucy was right, but I must do some scheming.
They mustn't know I've seen her magic land.
I'll make them think that she was merely dreaming.
Yes, I am wise, and I have it all planned.
And who is she, cavorting with a stranger
With fur and hooves who claims to be her friend?

I wouldn't heed his words, but I can't change her.
I'd scold that thing she's so quick to defend,
And I'd eat Turkish delight, that treat divine!

Susan is not - and never will be - Mother.
I wish she'd go off and leave me in peace.
Peter is worse, a nagging older brother
Whose criticisms of me never cease.
So I'm the boy who will say Lucy's crazy
Until a "Prince" is added to my name.

I'm cold and sore. My thoughts are getting hazy,
But that wardrobe door's the entry to my fame,
And I'll eat Turkish delight, that treat divine!

Harry, Don't Let Fleur's Sister Drown (Santa Claus is Comin' to Town, J. Fred Coots / Haven Gillespie)

Here's a parody about a climactic moment in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, to the tune of Santa Claus is Comin' to Town. Which reminds me, I really need to see that movie...

Harry, Don't Let Fleur's Sister Drown

It's task number two,
And no one knows why
The goblet chose you,
But you've got to try.
Harry, don't let Fleur's sister drown.

You're swimming so well.
You're winning the race.
It's easy to tell
You're bound for first place.
Harry, don't let Fleur's sister drown.

We know she's been annoying,
A bit of a French flake,
But in your heart you know you should
Save her sister from this lake.

Although you are chilled
And probably numb,
Just think of how thrilled
She'll be when you come.
Harry, don't let Fleur's sister drown.

You might sacrifice
A minute or two,
But since you're so nice,
It's what you must do.
Harry, don't let Fleur's sister drown.

And Fleur will be so grateful,
She'll lighten up, you'll see.
She won't be rude and hateful now,
And she'll fall for Bill Weasley.

Oh, it's task number two,
And no one knows why
The goblet chose you,
But you've got to try.
Harry, don't let Fleur's sister drown.

Rockin' With My Buddies in the Band (Winter Wonderland, Felix Bernard / Richard Smith)

I'm sliding into Christmas mode here, so I'll probably be posting a lot of carol parodies for a while... This one's to Winter Wonderland and in the voice of Nick from Freaks and Geeks, circa the episode I'm With the Band.

Rockin' With My Buddies in the Band

Lindsay, hey, won'tcha listen
When we play? If we're missin'
A note here and there,
I really don't care,
Rockin' with my buddies in the band.

Well, I don't say this proudly,
But my mind's kinda cloudy.
It never seems clear
Except when I'm here
Rockin' with my buddies in the band.

Lindsay, you are such a stunning woman.
Very soon I'm gonna write a song
Just to prove how much I care for you, man,
And I will sing it to you all day long.

I will never get tired
Of this kit. I'm inspired
By all twenty-nine
Of these drums of mine,
Rockin' with my buddies in the band.

I could play a solo like John Bonham
If Dad wasn't shouting, "Keep it down!"
I'm afraid he'll someday try to pawn 'em,
These drums that make the most fantastic sound.

Nothin' feels so fulfillin',
So I'm really unwillin'
To give 'em up now.
I'll make it somehow,
Rockin' with my buddies in the band.
Rockin' with my buddies in the band.
Rockin' with my buddies in the band.

Lionel (Silver Bells, Jay Livingston / Ray Evans)

Here is yet another Smallville parody, to the tune Silver Bells, which was once my favorite Christmas carol and still ranks pretty high. No particular moment correlates with this one, but sometime before the end of season three.

Lionel

You have black locks,
And Lex lacks locks,
But he echoes your style
With his suits that convey elite crispness.
You are passing
On your lasting
Legacy of great guile.
You're creating a villain to fear.

Lionel, Lionel.
Your life of crime is a pity.
You have been stained by sin,
And it will haunt you someday.

If he knew right,
He could do right,
But so far all he's seen
From his father is vice without measure.
It is my hunch
You've a big bunch
Of regret, so come clean.
You're a broken man under that sneer.

Lionel, Lionel.
Your life of crime is a pity.
You have been stained by sin,
And it will haunt you someday.

The Neverland Carol (The Cherry Tree Carol, Traditional)

Here's another parody about Peter Pan, to the tune of The Cherry Tree Carol.

The Neverland Carol

When Peter was a young man, a young man was he,
He came upon a fairy and flew across the sea.
He came upon a fairy and flew across the sea.

On the island where he landed - fair Neverland so green -
There were lost boys and pirates, and he remained a teen.
There were lost boys and pirates, and he remained a teen.

Then Wendy said to Peter, who had her beguiled,
"Peter, won't you come back with me? I cannot stay a child.
Peter, won't you come back with me? I cannot stay a child."

Then Peter flew in anger, in anger flew he.
"You can go ahead and grow up, but you won't be taking me!
You can go ahead and grow up, but you won't be taking me!"

Then up spoke little Tootles in evening's pale gloom,
"But I would like to have my own mother and a home.
But I would like to have my own mother and a home."

So he sprinkled them with dust. As they parted ways,
She said, "Remember, Peter, to come back for me someday!"
She said, "Remember, Peter, to come back for me someday!"

When Peter was a young man, a young man was he,
He came upon a fairy and flew across the sea.
He came upon a fairy and flew across the sea.

Sassin' You (Aspenglow, John Denver)

I'm going back to work in a seasonal kiosk next week, so Christmas is beginning to seep into my consciousness. Aspenglow is one of my favorite somewhat unconventional Christmas songs. I feel bad because this is the second tender John Denver song I've turned into a whiny kid's rant, but I guess that's just the way it worked out...

Sassin' You

See me acting out of line.
Listen to the way I whine.
When will you guys get a clue?
I'm not through sassin' you.

Aggravation is my goal.
I am only ten years old,
But I know just what to do.
I'm not through sassin' you.

What a lousy life I live!
There's so much that you should give.
If you don't, I might just leave.
There's so much I should receive!

I won't let you try to ground.
Screams will be the only sound.
If you touch me, I will sue!
I'm not through sassin' you.

See me acting out of line.
Listen to the way I whine.
When will you guys get a clue?
I'm not through sassin' you.
I'm not through sassin' you.

The Small Boy and the Puzzled Shrink (Do You Hear What I Hear?, Noel Regney / Gloria Shayne Baker)

Since we went to see Lady in the Water, I'm on a bit of a Shyamalan kick, so here's a Sixth Sense parody to the tune of the Christmas carol Do You Hear What I Hear?

The Small Boy and the Puzzled Shrink

Said the small boy to the puzzled shrink,
"Do you see what I see?
Hanging in the hall, puzzled shrink?
Do you see what I see?
A ghost, a ghost! They are everywhere!
Could you get them out of my hair?
Could you get them out of my hair?"

Said the puzzled shrink, working all alone,
"Do you hear what I hear?
Am I going nuts all alone?
Do you hear what I hear?
A voice, a voice with a ragged plea.
I am hearing what Cole can see.
I am hearing what Cole can see."

The enlightened shrink told his troubled charge,
"Do you know what I know?
Cowering in fear, troubled charge?
Do you know what I know?
Your help, your help. That is all they want.
If you give it, they will not haunt.
If you give it, they will not haunt."

Said the boy to his doting, worried Mom,
"Listen to what I say!
Hear my secret now, worried Mom.
Listen to what I say!
Grandma, Grandma visits me at night.
I see ghosts, but that is all right.
I see ghosts, but that is all right."

Wake Me Up When December Ends (Wake Me Up When September Ends, Billie Joe Armstrong)

I'm one of those people who can't get enough of Christmas; in fact, I'm already starting to think about it. But for a lot of people, the month leading up to it is one big hassle. This little parody, to Green Day's Wake Me Up When September Ends, is for them.

Wake Me Up When December Ends

Autumn has come and passed.
My sanity could never last.
Wake me up when December ends.
Garland on the grocery shelves,
Visions of reindeer and elves.
Wake me up when December ends.
Hunting for gifts again, courting bankruptcy,
Fearing the rifts again within my family.
I would waste no applause
On that oaf called Santa Claus.
Wake me up when December ends. 

Autumn has come and passed.
My sanity could never last.
Wake me up when December ends. 
Blast! Jingle bells again
Pounding down into my brain.
Wake me up when December ends.
Hunting for gifts again, courting bankruptcy,
Fearing the rifts again within my family.
I would waste no applause
On that oaf called Santa Claus.
Wake me up when December ends. 

Wake Me Up When September Ends