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We all have at least one Christmas song we truly despise. Some can’t stand “I Saw Momma Kissing Santa Claus” for bringing hints of adultery into the Yuletide Season. Others hate “Last Christmas” because it really makes no sense. (This year the protagonist is giving his or her heart to someone special? Surely this person thought last year’s heart recipient was special as well at the time.) I’ve never understood the hate for “Wonderful Christmastime” but surely anyone who had anything to do with the creation of “The Christmas Shoes” should only receive stocking coal for a lifetime.
The Christmas song I hate the most is one I hate for more personal reasons.
When I was in high school, my drama teacher told me I’d have to take chorus if I wanted a decent role in the school musical. This was not all bad. I found out that the beginning chorus class had 24 girls and only one other guy. So I rather enjoyed the class until Christmas came around.
Our class was to sing “The Little Drummer Boy” in the school’s holiday program. The girls were evenly divided into altos and sopranos. The guys were also evenly divided. Donald was the tenor and I was the bass. (Not to be mean, but I must say this about Donald’s vocalization skill. I could at least carry a tune in a bag. Whereas Donald, well, he had no bag.) Now the altos, sopranos, and Donald were to sing the lyrics of the song, telling the song’s story of a poor boy whose available gift for the newborn king was a percussion solo. (What mother of an infant wouldn’t want this rather than a silent night spent in heavenly peace.) The bass, me, was to be the drum, singing, “Prum, prum, prum, prum, prum, prum,” etc.
We were dressed as carolers and were to enter the cafeteria through the back door and march to the front of that room onto the stage. We had practiced the song for a long time in the choir room, but we had never practiced it while walking. Walking and singing, sadly, proved too much for our choir.
As we came through that back door, everyone was singing together and I was singing my “prums.” But as we walked toward the stage, singer after singer lost track of the notes or words and eventually both of these things. Donald was one of the first to go. We didn’t make it through the second verse. By the time we reached the stage, the only sound to be heard from the choir was my loud, repetitive, “PRUM, PRUM, PRUM, PRUM!”
On the stage, we started the song all over again. But the song was ruined for me to this day. Even the claymation special, one of the few about the real Christmas story, is not on my viewing list. This is not a song I want on my December playlist.
So how about you? Is there a Christmas song you hate? Please explain in elaborate detail why you despise it.