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Merry Christmas
and
Happy New Year!.
Here are three poem parodies
which I hope you'll find enjoyable.
[Click on one or just scroll down.]
![]() T'was the Night Before Christmas In Theatre Organ Heaven
![]() 'T'was the night before Christmas In heaven's picture house,
Not a talkie feature was showing, Not even Mickey, the Mouse;
The curtains were hung from proscenium with care,
In hopes that St. George, the Wright, soon would be there;
The angels were nestled all snug in their plush velvet seats,
While cupids of Chrysoglotts danced like sugar plum sweets;
Now, each toe-hole was opened, and on each Quintadena a cap,
And every percussion was adjusted, as well as each toy and trap,
When from under the stage there arose such a clatter,
Angels sprang from their seats to see what was the matter.
There, on a rising console, a spotlight did flash,
As St. George threw open the shutters,
And played a cymbal crash.
With flying fingers and feet so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment it was a comedy short flick.
More and more thundering, as on the ranks came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, DIAPASON ! now, VIOLA ! now, FLUTE and TIBIA CLAUSA!
On, POSTHORN! on OBOE ! on, TUBA HORN and VOX HUMANA!
To the rooftops of heaven the sound bounced off each wall!
Play away, play away, Yes! George, Play -- play them all!"
So up on the silver screen the shadows they flew,
Harold Lloyd, Mary Pickford, and Charlie Chaplin, too.
Angels laughed at the pratfalls and the jokes on the screen
As St George used the toy counter to accent each scene.
With the ringing and tolling of each bell and chime.
They knew that St. George was having a marvelous time.
They could tell from his playing, from his head to his foot,
That he was pleased with each honk and hoot, rip and toot,
The Glockenspiel -- how it twinkled! The Xylophone how merry!
The Flutes blossomed like roses, The Trumpet was a cherry!
The Strings resounded as if drawn with a throbbing bow,
And the sob of the Tibia was as deep as drifted snow;
At the close of the film the console rose still higher,
And the songs that St. George played
Displayed the Wurlitzer's power;
The thunder of the Diaphone, the trill of the Fife;
The Sizzle of Strings and the Kinura's edge, like a knife.
The sweep of the horseshoe with pistons and tabs in their order
Red, yellow, white and black, in a console with ormolu border.
In a Theatre washed with splendor,
A heavenly dream of days gone by,
A dream that's worth the keeping,
And there are those who try!
If hope springs eternal, ours is of Hope-Jones;
From labials and linguals, aero- and ideo- phones,
From tongue tabs and second-touch;
From Electro-pneumatics, tremulants and such
To colorful voices, and unified choices of tones.
Together with ranks of others at the keyboard,
The legacy of Jesse, the humor of Gaylord,
The perkiness of Ann, the grandeur of Lee,
Mr. Leibert, and Mr. Baker,
Delighting listening ears by the acre,
Showed us truly what pipe organ music could be
And what a great and glorious sound they did forge,
But it is the one and the only, the great St. George,
Who is the one who defined the art,
The one whose playing a renaissance did start.
I believe in heaven that Christmas Carols ring today,
As those legends of the organ gather to listen and play,
And those who are there play a heavenly box of mighty whistles,
With tones that shower on the earth
Like the down of snowflakes and thistles.
Ah! But if we could look in on such a fantastic sight,
Wouldn't our St. George, with the others,
Exclaim in cheerful delight?
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL,
AND TO ALL, A GOOD-NIGHT!"
.
.
![]() T'is the night of the Christmas Eve service
And all through the church house
Not a creature is stirring -- and only the organist is nervous,
Carols are sung by the Chimney Flute with care
With only a few little ciphers here and there.
The Children's choir look cute in their little robes of red,
And if they will sing like they did in rehearsal
They'll surely knock'em dead.
The Padre is late with the introit again this year,
Same excuse as the last -- he's just too busy to hear.
What with acolytes and candles and readings to time,
And, with his hearing, he hardly hears my soft little chime.
It seems he didn't hear what I said
For when I spoke he hit his head;
Maybe it's because of that concussion,
(or perhaps his tea contained something Russian)
But I was so sure he'd heard that disscussion,
About hiring brass to go with the organ and percussion.
Joy to the World, Here Comes the Choir!
Chistmas Eve congregational singing can be mighty dire.
O Holy Night, The Stars are Brightly Shining,
And so I do wish they were, too -
For in the dark the altos are forever whining…
Hark! The Herald Altos Sing!
Rather, I wish they could; for without lights
Hymnals don't mean a thing!
Just when my nerves can't get any frayer,
Here comes that temperamental guitar player.
Yet as I draw the stops for Viol and celeste,
I reflect that Christmas tends to bring out our musical best.
Then to the strains of
“Silent Night, Holy Night,
All is Calm, All is Bright!”
I realize . . .
When else could
An organ,
And a guitar,
Together,
Sound so right
?
Happy Holidays!
![]() ![]() This one is for school teachers - true unsung heroes.
![]() The Twelve School Days of Christmas
On the 1st Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
A "C" in Geography.
.
. On the 2nd Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Two book reports,
![]() And a "C" in Geography.
On the 3rd Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Three French words,
![]() Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 4th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Four chores to do,
![]() ![]() ![]() Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 5th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Five compliments ! ! ! ! !
Four chores to do,
Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 6th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Six long division problems,
![]() Five compliments! ! ! ! !
Four chores to do,
Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 7th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Seven pages reading,
Six long division problems,
Five compliments ! ! ! ! !
Four chores to do,
Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 8th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Eight times tables,
Seven pages reading,
Six long division problems,
Five compliments ! ! ! ! !
Four chores to do,
Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 9th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Nine days detention,
![]() Eight times tables,
Seven pages reading,
Six long division problems,
Five compliments ! ! ! ! !
Four chores to do,
Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 10th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Ten days of homework,
Nine days detention,
Eight times tables,
Seven hours of reading,
Six long division problems,
Five compliments ! ! ! ! !
Four chores to do,
Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 11th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Eleven science worksheets,
![]() Ten days of homework,
Nine days detention,
Eight times tables,
Seven pages reading,
Six long division problems,
Five compliments ! ! ! ! !
Four chores to do,
Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
On the 12th Day of Christmas my teacher gave to me,
Twelve spelling tests,
![]() Eleven science worksheets,
Ten days of homework,
Nine days detention,
Eight times tables,
Seven pages reading,
Six long division problems,
Five compliments ! ! ! ! !
Four chores to do,
Three French words,
Two book reports,
And a "C" in Geography.
![]() .
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