»  National Review Online

December 23, 2003

  Sing-along-a-Derb 2003

As readers of our print magazine will be aware, Holiday is upon us. A bulletin from the U.S. Congress has announced the arrival and erection of the annual Holiday Tree on Capitol Hill. We are all bustling about doing our Holiday shopping, sending out our Holiday cards, and decorating our own Holiday trees. But what would Holiday be without a family singalong round the old upright piano?

Here are some of my own personal favorites, both seasonal and general, spruced up to make them suitable for our tolerant, inclusive, sensitive age. Merry Holiday! And Supreme Court bless us every one.

•  God Rest ye Merry Democrats
(To the tune "God Rest ye Merry Gentlemen")

God rest ye merry Democrats
Let nothing you dismay.
For George Soros your savior
Is here with cash today!
To buy you all more TV ads —
Don't worry, George will pay!
O-oh, tidings of fundraising joy,
Fundraising joy!
O-oh, tidings of fundraising joy.

•  Mad Dogs and Neocons
(To the tune "Mad Dogs and Englishmen")

Mad dogs and neocons wage war in the Middle East.
The Germans just don't care to, the French would never dare to,
In Luxembourg and Amsterdam they don't care in the least;
But neocons all hate a dictator.
China's PLA just waits for the day they can massacre students and monks;
While Kim Jong Il has orders to fill — without cash from his nukes, he's sunk.
In Istanbul the only rule is to keep the Kurds policed,
But mad dogs and neocons wage war in the Middle East.

Mad dogs and neocons wage war in the Middle East.
The Democrats would much prefer if to the U.N. we'd defer;
The ACLU want the motley crew at Guantanamo released —
But, please, no order on the border.
The paleo crowd will applaud out loud anyone who torments Jews;
A pogrom or a human bomb is easy to excuse.
At the New York Times talk of Bush's "crimes" has hardly ever ceased.
But mad dogs and neocons wage war in the Middle East.

•  The Seven Days of Kwanzaa
(To the tune "The Seven Days of Christmas")

On the first day of Kwanzaa my true love gave to me
A hook-up to BET.

On the second day of Kwanzaa my true love gave to me
Two slots at Yale,
And a hook-up to BET.

On the third day of Kwanzaa my true love gave to me
Three profiling protests,
Two slots at Yale,
And a hook-up to BET.

On the fourth day of Kwanzaa my true love gave to me
Four Baraka poems,
Three profiling protests,
Two slots at Yale,
And a hook-up to BET.

On the fifth day of Kwanzaa my true love gave to me
Five votes for Al!
Four Baraka poems,
Three profiling protests,
Two slots at Yale,
And a hook-up to BET.

On the sixth day of Kwanzaa my true love gave to me
Six insults to Thomas,
Five votes for Al!
Four Baraka poems,
Three profiling protests,
Two slots at Yale,
And a hook-up to BET.

On the seventh day of Kwanzaa my true love gave to me
Seven Jackson shake-downs,
Six insults to Thomas,
Five votes for Al!
Four Baraka poems,
Three profiling protests,
Two slots at Yale,
And a hook-up to BET.

•  O Come All Ye Faithful
(To the tune "Adeste fidelis")

O come, all ye faithful,
Take your Ten Commandments,
Hide them, O hide them
Where no-one will see.
If you believe in
Absolute morality —
Then you're just too judgmental,
Your faith's too fundamental,
Your rock so monumental
Has no place in here!

•  A Modern Homosexual
(To the tune "A Modern Major-General")

I am the very pattern of a modern homosexual:
I wear a suit and tie, I am impeccably respectable;
I live out in the suburbs with my partner, who's a blogger; we
Are very nearly ready to commit to strict monogamy.
We party, but we always beg the neighbors to excuse the noise
Of after-midnight dancing to the music of the Pet Shop Boys.
We're active in the local church, which is of course Episcopal —
'Piscopal — 'Piscopal —
We help out with the youth group — I assure you there's no risk at all!

(All) They help out with the youth group, he assures us there's no risk at all.

You needn't fear we'll turn your kids, the whole thing is inborn, you see.
It's nothing we can help, so disapproval is just bigotry.
My hair is cropped, my goatee's trimmed, my lisp is undetectable;
I am the very model of a modern homosexual!

(All) His hair is cropped, his goatee's trimmed, his lisp is undetectable;
He is the very model of a modern homosexual!

My HIV I manage with a handy pharma-copeia;
With modern medications now we gays are in Utopia!
I shoot up with testosterone and work out till my limbs are sore;
My voice is deep, my chest is broad, I'm butch-er than a stevedore.
You'll just have to get used to us, adjust the laws to suit our needs;
To take another attitude from adherence to worn-out creeds
Would mark you as intolerant! a basher! and a criminal!
Criminal! — Criminal! —
We'll slander and defame you and you'll find support is minimal.

(All) They'll slander and defame you and you'll find support is minimal.

The media is on our side, the movie stars and talking heads;
The younger set don't mind us, only old fools who will soon be dead.
For homophobes I've only scorn, their taunts are ineffectual;
I am the very model of a modern homosexual!

(All) For homophobes he's only scorn, their taunts are ineffectual;
He is the very model of a modern homosexual!

•  Deck the Halls
(To the traditional tune)

Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Sing of Michael Jackson's folly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Dons he soon his jail apparel,
Fa la la, fa la la, fa la la.
The DA's got him over a barrel!
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

•  The Battle Hymn of the Multicultural Republic
(To the tune "The Battle Hymn of the Republic")

Mine eyes have never noticed any difference at all —
Black, brown, or white; gay, bi, or straight; or thin or fat or tall;
Male, female, or transsexual — they're constructions soci-al:
We must celebrate each one.
Glory, glory, there's no difference!
Yet still, we'd better give some preference.
To enrich our own learning experience,
Till critical mass is here.

We're stamping out all images of Christianity,
That religion of colonialists, of war and slavery.
To faiths of every other sort there's none more kind than we;
So let them all come in!
Christians have no special standing.
Moslem numbers are expanding.
Flight-school lessons they're demanding —
Sharia law is here!

Ten million illegals? — Oh, what need for any fuss?
Let's give them driver's licenses — they're just as good as us.
In fact, they're slightly better, for they're more industrious.
Who else will mow our lawns?
Down with dull assimilation!
We're a multicultural nation!
Celebrate the transformation!
Diversity is here!

•  Word! da White-Boy Rapper Sings
(To the tune "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing")

Word! da white-boy rapper sings
Of bitches, ho's, an' homie t'ings.
He one cool s***-kickin' mutha
Got mo' fans than any brutha.
Now he's called for Bush's slayin' —
Thass too much, kna wha' I'm sayin'?
Anyway, they's took his heat —
Fool's defenseless on da street.
Word! da white-boy rapper sings —
Suburban teens all think he's king.