Christmas Songs With a New Twist

A few years ago, I wrote an updated version of a classic Holiday favorite, called “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” The original song was first recorded by Elmo and Patsy in 1979. I wrote my own song, using the original musical score, after a Christmas Eve celebration at my mother-in laws house. I hope you find a little humor, and possibly some Christmas cheer in a song involving my wife’s beloved mother, a big Ford truck, an accident-prone man, and too much eggnog. 

Grandma got run over by my Ford truck.

Grandma got run over by my Ford truck.

Passed out in my driveway Christmas Eve.

You might think she couldn’t have drunk a six-pack.

But as for me and Grandpa we believe.

She’d been drinking too much Yuengling.

And my wife said, “mom don’t go.”

But she’d left a pair of false teeth.

Down, at a bar we all call Crazy Mo’s.

When they found her Christmas morning.

Lying sprawled behind my truck.

There were tire tracks on her forehead.

And one upon her back, just for luck.

Grandma got run over by my Ford truck.

Passed out in my driveway Christmas Eve.

You might think she couldn’t have drunk a six-pack.

But as for me and Grandpa we believe.

Now we’re all so proud of grandpa.

He went out and bought a truck.

Loaded it with widow Simpson.

Vegas bound and trying hard to change his luck.

It’s not Christmas without Grandma.

Who will drink the rum and Coke.

And we just can’t help but wonder.

Should we flush her weed or have ourselves a smoke…..Have a smoke!

Grandma got run over by my Ford truck.

Passed out in my driveway Christmas Eve.

You might think she couldn’t have drunk a six-pack.

But as for me and Grandpa we believe.

Now the keg is in the corner.

Shot glasses all lined up in rows.

And I feel so sad and guilty.

I only meant to graze her dainty toes.

My wife’s warned our friends and neighbors.

Better listen to this verse.

They should never give a license.

To a man who feels a bump and hits reverse.

Grandma got run over by my Ford truck.

Passed out in my driveway Christmas Eve.

You might think she couldn’t have drunk a six-pack.

But as for me and Grandpa we believe.

Merry Christmas

(Sung in a deep and melodious voice)

Okay everyone. What do you say we all pile into that old Ford truck of mine and head to Mo’s. Okay Cousin Mel; you can bring the keg, but don’t forget the rum, and hand me a cold one. I’m sure Evelyn would have wanted it this way. I just wish my wife wasn’t still mad at me about her mother. I swear, it was an unfortunate accident. Now let’s go!…………..Hey, did you all feel a bump? Oh, oh, I’m getting a bad feeling. Has anyone seen my wife lately.

A number of years ago, my wife and I had taken a trip to an isolated mountain cabin for a weekend getaway. Two things happened that still give me nightmares. We were stranded in the cabin by an unexpected blizzard, which knocked out all our power, and made impassable, the single lane, winding mountain road. Worse yet, I, in my rush to load the car, had forgotten many of our food supplies. Luckily, we had basics such as bread, milk, pancake mix, coffee, baked beans, and a dozen hot dogs. The cabin also had a large stock of firewood for cooking, and providing heat. Unfortunately, a large box with alcoholic beverages, two bottles of wine, creamer, sugar, eggs, and a large supply of precious spam were left behind.

You may be wondering to yourself; what’s with the spam. If you’ve read many of my stories, you know, I’m a very strange and unique person. I’ve always had an affinity, and should I say – love of spam. I don’t know what it is, but if I knew it wouldn’t kill me, I’d eat it for breakfast lunch, and dinner. It’s also a dense, calorie-filled meal with an easy opening tab to help one survive through any difficult and perilous situation. If you read my upcoming book, you’ll see that it is the perfect food to survive a world plagued by ravenous legions of the living dead. It’s not commonly known, but zombies appear to prefer the taste of spam over human flesh. I wrote this updated version of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland,” after returning from my trying vacation. I hope you enjoy the worldwide debut of ”Stranded in the Winter Without Spam,” as sung, using the original musical score.

Stranded in the Winter Without Spam

Stomach’s growl

are you listening

In the cabin

tempers bristling.

A pitiful sight

we’re starving tonight

Stranded in the winter without spam.

By the door was a bluebird

Now we need us a new bird.

It didn’t take too long

and now he’s all gone

Stranded in the winter without spam.

In the meadow I will fight a wolf pack.

Fighting over scraps of meat and bone.

They’ll ask are you married

I’ll say yes man.

They’ll take off and leave

 me all alone.

Later on

we’ll perspire.

As we huddle by the fire.

She’s frisky again

I say an amen

Stranded in the winter without spam.

In a meadow we can build a bonfire.

Pile it high until we nearly drop.

If my wife doesn’t stop complaining

 I may have to throw myself on top.

Without spam

it ain’t thrilling.

And my wife is so chilling.

We’re starving today

it’s no fun to stay

Stranded in the winter without spam.

 

Stranded……in…..the…..winter…..without…..spam………….!

M-E-R-R-Y

 C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S

E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E