Christmas Verses 

A sing-along or recitation is always fun at Christmas, or used to be in Victorian times. On this page I present a few pieces of verse to help along the more old-fashioned festive spirit in readers. p.j. has sent in the whole of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' - a remarkable achievement I think, because I was not even aware that there was a second verse, much less any others. This is followed by p.j.'s verse to the same tune, about a very sissy Mummy's Boy. After that I have reprinted a piece of verse from 'Justice Weekly' called 'Petticoats Please', and finally there is my own choice. 

Mary Had a Little Lamb

Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb,
Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow.
Everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went,
Everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go.

It followed her to school one day, school one da, school one day,
It followed her to school one day,
That was against the rule.
It made the children laugh and play, laugh and play, laugh and play,
It made the children laugh and play,
To see a lamb at school.

So the teacher turned it out, turned it out, turned it out,
So the teacher turned it out,
But still it lingered near.
And waited patiently about, -ly about, -ly about,
And waited patiently about
Till Mary did appear.

Then it ran to her and laid, her and laid, her and laid,
Then it ran to her and laid
Its head upon her arm.
As if to say, "I'm not afraid, not afraid, not afraid,
As if to say, "I'm not afraid,
You'll keep me from all harm".

"What makes the lamb love Mary so? Mary so? Mary so?
What makes the lamb love Mary so?"
The eager children cry.
"Oh Mary loves the lamb, you know, lamb you know, lamb you know,
Oh Mary loves the lamb you know",
The teacher did reply.

 --- and here's the sissy version, entitled:

I am Mommy's Sissy Boy

I am Mommy's sissy boy, sissy boy, sissy boy,
I am Mommy's sissy boy,
A proper namby-pamby.
Dainty as a dolly toy, dolly toy, dolly toy,
Dainty as a dolly toy
And docile as a lamby.

I follow Mommy's every rule, every rule, every rule,
I follow Mommy's every rule,
I dare not disobey
Because I know in Mommy's school, Mommy's school, Mommy's school,
Because I know in Mommy's school
Naughty sissies pay.

Buttoned up in fussy frills, fussy frills, fussy frills,
Buttoned up in fussy frills
All neat and sweet and dear,
I practice all my sissy skills, sissy skills, sissy skills,
I practice all my sissy skills
With precious, prim good cheer.

I must always sit up straight, sit up straight, sit up straight,
I must always sit up straight
At a sewing chore:
Adding lace to decorate, decorate, decorate,
Adding lace to decorate
A pretty pinafore.

I can blush to show I'm shy, show I'm shy, show I'm shy,
I can blush to show I'm shy
And say a 'pretty please'.
If you tease me, I shall cry, I shall cry, I shall cry,
If you tease me, I shall cry
And give my doll a squeeze.

Mommy made me fret one day, fret one day, fret one day,
Mommy made me fret one day
As I sucked my binkie. [dummy]
She took the dummy teat away, teat away, teat away,
She took the dummy teat away
And made me such her pinkie [thumb].

As a final reprieve, p.j. gives us: 

My Pinafore

        I adore my pinafore,
        It's cute and sweet enough,
        Buttoned behind me
        It serves to remind me
        I'm just a pink powder puff.

'Patricia' composed this verse, and it was printed in 'Justice Weekly', probably in the 1960s: 

Petticoats Please

Please put me folks in petticoats
And dress me as a girl,
If you do that I'll grow my hair,
And when it's long I'll curl.
Please give me folks a girl's name too
And treat me as a girl.

I've always loved to wear full skirts,
The sort that twist and twirl,
And stick out wide with lots of lace
Which billows out beneath,
And I love too when nylons cling,
And caress me in their sheath.

Yes, make me girlish all my days,
Don't treat me as a boy,
Then I'll be loved by all I meet
Because I'll bring them joy.
So give me frocks and skirts to wear,
(Let all boys wear them too
Who are like me, and want to be
Dear Girls, a girl like you).

I am a great enthusiast for 'ranting verse', the poetry arm of the British punk culture. It has taken poetry back to its raffish beginnings, and away from the dreary, effete modernity of e.e. cummins, and other poets who discarded rhyme, rhythm, metre, and just about everything else that makes poetry poetry.  In this way ranting verse performed a similar function to the punk bands of late 1970s Britain, who tried to sweep away the decadent, top-heavy orchestration of 70s popular music, and take rock and roll back to its raw and offensive 1950s beginnings (I am afraid I was a teddy girl in my misspent youth).

Apart from lengthy ballads such as 'Beawulf', the earliest poetry was that performed by the wandering 'jongleurs' of the Middle Ages, who recited their usually topical verse in ale houses, verse that was rich in rime, rhythm, alliteration (especially), and all the other techniques of traditional poetry. It was this tradition that the ranting poets, such as John Cooper Clarke and Attila the Stockbroker, brought back with their noisy and argumentative recitations in pubs such as 'The Spotted Dog', and other punk venues.

This marvellous piece is by Attila the Stockbroker:

The Don't Care Bear

The Don't Care Bear's got purple hair,
A padlock round his neck,
His dad says 'That's no son of mine',
His mum's a nervous wreck;

He lives on chips and special brew,
Not soppy stuff like honey,
He hangs about on subway steps,
He'll ask you for some money;

He's got a mate called Tigger,
Another one called Owl,
They're in a band called 'PUNK'S NOT DEAD',
They make the neighbours howl!

His parents call him Jeremy,
His friends just call him 'Pooh',
Says, 'A. A. Milne's a wanker.
D'ya want some special brew?'

Return to Table of Contents