Tom Lehrer, the bard of my young adult days, wrote this in 1959.
He was prescient about so many things.
> Christmas time is here, by golly,
> Disapproval would be folly.
> Deck the halls with hunks of holly,
> Fill the cup and don’t say when.
> Kill the turkeys, ducks and chickens,
> Mix the punch, drag out the Dickens.
> Even though the prospect sickens,
> Brother, here we go again.
> On Christmas Day you can’t get sore,
> Your fellow man you must adore.
> There’s time to rob him all the more
> The other three hundred and sixty-four.
> Relations, sparing no expense, I’ll
> Send some useless old utensil,
> Or a matching pen and pencil.
> (“Just the thing I need, how nice!”)
> It doesn’t matter how sincere it is,
> Nor how heart felt the spirit,
> Sentiment will not endear it,
> What’s important is the price.
> Hark, the Herald Tribune sings,
> Advertising wondrous things.
> God rest ye merry merchants,
> May ye make the Yuletide pay.
> Angels we have heard on high,
> Tell us to go out and buy!
> So let the raucous sleighbells jingle,
> Hail our dear old friend Kriss Kringle,
> Driving his reindeer across the sky.
> Don’t stand underneath when they fly by.