The Essex book of carols

While Shepherds BurnedTheir Flocks

While shepherds burned their flocks at night
Or put them underground,
A ministry official came
And started mooching round.
"Fear not," said he, "a clearance check."
Which troubled shepherds more.
Since hardened as they were by now
They'd heard that one before.

But then, a helicopter came
Descending from the air
And lo, a knackered man got out
And it was Tony Blair.
"Hey, Merry Christmas guys!" he bawled.
"I expect you're asking why
I've come to see you at this hour?
Well, I'm that kind of guy.

"With all this hassle in the world
You've slipped out of the news
While I've been getting head chewed off
By Arabs and the Jews.
Apart from that, Afghanistan
And falling interest rates
Have forced a dodgy PR schmooze
Of Middle Eastern states.

"And look, I know you've had it tough
With all the stuff this year,
But bringing you glad tidings now
Are my advisors here
To tell you vaccination's out
And evidence is clear
That slaughter is the only cure
Despite all else you hear."

Thus spake the seraph and forthwith
The shepherds made no sound
While in the corridors of power
T'was congrats all around.
Some shepherds went to try their hands
At running B&B.
The rest went off to burger joints
Or reskilled in IT.

Good King Wenceslas

Good King Wenceslas looked out
Weather wasn't pleasant
Burglar lights shone all about
Tripped by yonder peasant.
Car-alarm then gave it some,
Waking his bull terrier
Which leapt up to bite his bum
Making him less merrier.

Then a banging at the door
Came to his attention.
Christmas Eve or not, he swore
Words best not to mention.
In the porch the sight he saw
Only made him surlier.
T'was the page he'd texted for
Several hours earlier.

"Did you get the flesh and wine?"
Wenceslas enquired now.
"What about the logs of pine
Or have you retired now?
Yonder peasant's had a word
And his wife's been asking
Whether you had ever heard
Of this multi-tasking?"

Page and monarch off they went
With the goods that Monday
Brought from Calais, via Kent,
On the previous Sunday.
Customs checks were very tight
So they'd had to stock up
Leaving it till final night
In their Essex lock-up.

Peasant not best-pleased somehow
What with goods being not there.
"Wenceslas, you're my bitch now."
When the transit got there
Counting bottles – every one
King and page thought hateful.
"Do a bloke a favour, son,"
But will he be grateful?

Finally the king and page
Got back with the wonga.
Roadworks at the final stage
Made the process longer.
Then the client moans and pays
Later than expected.
Peasants had no class these days
Wenceslas reflected.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

God rest ye merry gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
While flicking through the TV guide
In vain on Christmas Day.
The double-dose of TV soaps
Are seasonal they say
With their hidings and gunshots
and noise (gunshots and noise)
With their hidings and gunshots and noise.
A smorgasbord of storylines
Competing for your screen
By people who have trouble
Telling life from margarine
Are mitigated dully
By some waffle from the Queen.
Then it's hidings and gunshots
and noise (etc etc).

Celebrities before they were
Or dead ones at their peak
Then I Love Thursday Afternoon
Say, Two O'Clock Last Week.
Your Top Ten Sex Bombs
Hosted by a genuine antique
And more hidings and gunshots
and noise (etc etc).

A Christmas News and Weather
Will ameliorate this diet
With shots of central London
Being traditionally quiet,
With all disruptive elements
Too mesmerised to riot
By the hidings and gunshots
and noise (etc etc).

Promoted by the planners
For the first time on TV:
A "chance" to watch a raft of films
You didn't wish to see
Provides you with a window
For a dog-walk and some tea.
Then it's hidings and gunshots
and noise (etc etc).
As goggle-eyed and heavy-limbed
You make your way to bed
Vicariously in tatters
From the punch-ups and hot lead
A voice inside you whispers:
"That's enough of Christmas – Ed."

Adam Lay Ybounden

Adam lay ybounden
Bounden in a cell
Waiting for hys lawyer
Job hadde not gone offe so welle.

And all was for an Astra
An Astra that he tooke
As desk sergeant findes
Written down in station booke.

Now hadde the Astra
Been fitte wyth crook locke
In multi-storey car parke
Adam ne had done the twoc.

Owner was inne Tesco's
Checking oute Christmasse fayre.
Adam, wyth keys in bumbagge,
Motyr begging for itte there.

Two tries ande sortede!
Fulle tank, as itte goes
Adam, keyes in ignition
And he had itte on hys toes.

Halfway rounde ring roade
Nynety in top geare
Bryght lyghtes, reare view mirror
"Nee-na nee-na" in hys ear.

Choppyr with loudspeakere
Shoutede atte Adam to stoppe.
Traffic coppes throwe a stinger
Slappe the bracelets onne, faire cop.

Adam coughs at station,
Handes up to earlier blagge:
"Ryght resulte! Xmas clear-up.
You'll go dahn thys time, y slagge."

Adam lay ybounden
Stytched uppe well and goode.
Christmas Daye, no bayle yette
Brief at home with Christmas pudde.

In the Bleak Midwinter

In the bleak midwinter
Late for work again.
This was due to: "Problems
On a previous train."
Snow had fal-len
Engine would not go
Blowers were not working
Wro-ng type of snow.

On a platform later
Where we stood and froze
Waiting room was padlocked
Café set to close.
Inform-ation
Claimed a train was due
Though a passing railman
Didn't have a clue.

In a crowded carriage
Standing in the dark
Due to power failure
Near Gidea Park.
Trees had fal-len
In the wind and rain
Men in orange jackets
Marching past the train.

Four announcements later
Things were just as bad.
Fifty mobiles ringing
Driving readers mad.
Train in-spector
Was on board somewhere.
Did he ask for tickets?
No, he didn't dare.

Gazing out the window
At an ancient bus
Stalled in heavy traffic,
Sent to wait for us.
De-in-vestment
Having run its course
Must be rather quicker
Overland by horse.

Sod the office party,
Best return right now.
If you leave in daylight
Might get home somehow.
Wife should know you
Though you're old and bald.
Name on season ticket
Tells her what you're called.

Emmanuel

Oh come and see this man-u-al
It says these wires hook up the other way.
The bloke said it was easy to set up.
Why did this have to happen Christmas Day?
Rejoice! Rejoice!
It must be this way round.
Oh no. Now we've got vision but no sound.

We'll go back to the man-u-al.
Have you still got that tiny battery?
It can't be lost, you had it in your hand.
Without it there's no back-up memory.
Rejoice! Rejoice!
It's down there on the floor.
It looks like we're in business here once more.

What did it tell you in the man-u-al?
The power supply adaptor. Has to be.
Made in Korea? Square and got three pins?
Make sure you switch it over to AC.
Rejoice! Rejoice!
The speakers will not work.
Get me the Phillips screwdriver, you berk.

We can't be sure this is the man-u-al.
The bloke who sold it to me at the door
Would not give me receipt or guarantee.
It was £400 cheaper, say no more!
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Let Lynda do the grub.
We'll go and see the mush, after the pub.

He said he'll bring the real man-u-al
And come unto us, first thing Boxing Day
To get it up and running in an hour.
I think he's been persuaded anyway.
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Let's have another look
And by the way that was a nice left hook.

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