One of the things that sucks about being an atheist is we get no holidays, no songs. Here’s one I came up with on Saturday while the Shop Rite was pounding Xmas carols into my noggin:
Have yourself a godless little Christmas,
Let’s both you and I
Do things that will make the baby Jesus cry.
Have yourself a godless little Christmas,
Jews and Muslims, too—
Carl Sagan would have been real proud of you!
Once again, as in pagan days,
Those pre-Reagan days of yore—
Faith-filled friends who now cross our eyes
They will proselytize no more.
One day soon we’ll be free of religions, if our fates allow.
Till then, let’s hang Chick tracts from the highest bough!
And have yourself a godless little Christmas, now . . .
I know we have a lot of good song parodists at the SDMB. Anyone else got any contributions? We can all go caroling this year . . .
Her comes Carl Sagan! Here comes Carl Sagan!
Right down Demon-Haunted lane!
Religion and ETs and all his pet peeves
are pulling on his chain!
People are praying, hymm singing;
inciting Carl to the fight
burn your stockings and forget your prayers,
'Cause Carl Sagan is right!
Not my best effort, but I’ve always had trouble doing a parody of a Christmas song unless it’s dirty and involves Santa giving head. Give it time. I’ll do another.
Oh Come All Ye Faithful
O come all ye faithful
Joyful and triumphant
O come ye, O come ye to Welby’s house
Come and behold me
Faithless hater of angels
O come let us abhor him,
O come let us abhor him,
O come let us abhor him,
He rejects the Lord
Sing choirs of Fundies
Sing in exhortation
Oh sing all ye citizens, ye lovers of holiday sales
Glory to Wal-Mart!
It’s time to buy our presents!
O come let us abhor them,
O come let us abhor them.
O come let us abhor them,
They reject the Lord
Yeah Lord we greet thee
Born this happy morning
ANd now all the presents are given
Little Johnny’s stocking’s missing
Now in his room appearing
O come let us eat turkey,
O my our faith is murky,
O the kids new toys don’t work-ee,
Christ where’s the receipt,
Christ from which store?
*Let us break wind together on our knees, (on our knees)
Let us break wind together on our knees. (on our knees)
When I fall on my knees and jar loose a rather big 'un,
O Lord, have mercy on me.
Let us guz wine together on our knees, (on our knees)
Let us guz wine together on our knees. (on our knees)
When I fall on my knees and barf to the rising sun,
O Lord, have mercy on me.
Let us press bods together on our knees, (on our knees)
Let us press bods together on our knees. (on our knees)
When I fall on my knees with my face to your rising moon,
O Lord, pretty pretty pretty please.*
There goes Santa Claus
There goes Santa Claus
Back up to the North Pole
I think he’s gettin’
Kinda sick and tired
Of hauling all that coal!
When he gets home
He’ll unplug the phone
Or maybe play some golf,
And next year don’t be too surprised
When Santa takes Christmas off!
You better watch out
Now don’t you be lax,
Or you’ll be appearing in his next fax
Freddie Phelps is coming to town.
He’s making a list
Or so he will tell
For each one in Heaven there’s a billion in Hell
Freddie Phelps is coming to town.
He sees you drinking whiskey,
He knows you order wine
He’s got a personality that’s strictly border line…
He bosses all his children
They’re scared to leave his homes
He’d serve them all some Kool-Aid
That was bottled by Jim Jones
There was more but I can’t find all the words. I’ve got them on a sheet somewhere. A friend wrote it but he passed away several years ago, and I still miss him.
