Sangahyando, that’s phenomenal! wild applause
Also, I hope the author of the piece in question doesn’t mind, but I have a particular fondness for The Ruba’iya’t of Omar Khayyam and I borrowed that parody upthread for a local Christmas concert last weekend. It was very well received! 
Awesome, Sangahyando!
Acquisity Tree–I love it!
I’m not sure it’s really up to the mark, but here is some A. A. Milne (“Disobedience”).
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Old Ebenezer,
Stingiest miser alive,
Took great
Care of his money
Though he was sixty-five;
Scrooge, Scrooge
Said to his nephew
“Freddie,” he said, said he,
“Christmas is humbug, and all useless wasters will never get money from me.”
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Old Ebenezer,
Lonely and chilly and old
Sat up
Supping on gruel
Sniffling with a cold.
“Scrooge! Scrooge!”
Wailed old Marley,
Tonight you’ll see Spirits Three -
“You must pay close attention to all that they show, or you’ll soon be a ghost like me!”
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Old Ebenezer,
Miser, but no-one’s fool,
Paid close
Heed to the Spirit
Showing him back at school;
“Scrooge, Scrooge,”
Tutted the Spirit,
"Don’t you like what you see?
“It was you who decided you had to be wealthy - your misery isn’t from me.”
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Old Ebenezer,
Grouchy and never too pleasant,
Saw sights
Many and varied
Walking with Christmas Present;
“Scrooge, Scrooge!”
Laughed his young nephew;
"Calls Christmas humbug, dear me!
“My silly old uncle, I’ve asked him and asked, but he won’t come to dinner or tea.”
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Old Ebenezer
(Whose purse-strings were never too loose),
Saw Bob
Cratchit at table
Dining on Christmas goose;
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Saw Tiny Tim there
Asked if he soon would die;
Started to pity the poor and the hungry; started to pipe his eye!
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Saw Christmas Future:
Saw he was in a fix;
Saw, if
He didn’t change, he’d
Never be sixty-six;
Scrooge, Scrooge
Begged of the Spirit -
Wailing like one in pain -
“I will keep better Christmases all of my life if you’ll just let me try again!”
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Woke in the morning;
Saw it was not too late;
Did great
Wonders that Christmas,
Working to change his fate.
Soon, Bob
Cratchit was feasting -
Turkey he had that day! -
“You’re a loyal employee, Bob Cratchit!” Scrooge told him - “It’s time you had better pay!”
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Old Ebenezer,
Kept his word all his life -
Took great
Care of Bob Cratchit,
Children, and loving wife.
Scrooge, Scrooge,
Always kept Christmas
Joyous and full of glee -
“You may hear the word ‘humbug’ from silly old misers, but never no more from me!”
As a fan of “James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree”, I think this is great!
Seconded. Absolutely splendid stuff !
A Christmas Carol in the Cuckoo’s Nest
Ebenezer Scrooge. Committed by his nephew, who claims he suffers from a multitude of psychotic delusions. Claims he sees ghosts, including those of his dead partner. Possible extreme feelings of guilt, or latent homosexual tendencies. Also claims to see spirits who show him his past. Unresolved childhood issued of abandonment, coupled with a fiancée who also abandoned him. Apparently sought happiness by accumulating wealth, but without spending it. A hoarder. Saw the spirit of Christmas Present, who showed him the family of his employee Bob Crachitt. Apparently suffers from severe family disassociation, wanting it and yet being scared of it. Claims he sees Tiny Tim, the Crachitt’s youngest son, dead. Obviously sees himself in the child, who is lame and yet still loved by his family. Has a death wish since early childhood.
Last spirit shows him the future. He has achieved his death wish, and still suffers from feelings of abandonment, as nobody mourns him.
Recommendation: Keep him in the institution, with large amounts of various antidepressants and anti-psychotic medications. At his age, he might be suffering from senility. Recovery of such a traumatic childhood and such dead seated unresolved issues is unlikely.
His company and his life’s savings will be used to pay for this treatment.
Case closed.
** A Christmas Carol ** by Eric Bogle
(I reckon * And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda*, a terrific song – but its effect on me every time, is borderline-wrist-slitting. I can’t imagine its maker ever managing successfully to do “cheerful”, no matter how hard he tried…)
I tell of a miser called Ebenezer Scrooge,
Victorian London, his dwelling –
Amassing of cash his one joy, although huge:
Achieving the max from his selling.
December each year was quite hellish for him –
All jolly-benign: in his eyes, it was grim
How false the whole thing was – and his clerk, Bob the prim,
Wanted Christmas Day off – idle bastard.
And the band played “Adeste Fideles”,
And the city was filled full with glee;
But Scrooge said, fuck this shit: I’ve no use for it:
It’s all bleeding humbug to me.
Well, on Christmas Eve night he was visited by ghosts,
One known from the past; others novel –
And they scared the crap out of him, these spectral hosts,
And before them compelled him to grovel.
“You’re a bad, mean, cruel sod, Ebenezer”, they said –
You’d best shape up quickly, or soon you’ll be dead:
And none will regret you – so heed what we’ve said,
Or you’ll rot in a grave that’s forgotten.”
Band in dream, played “Adeste Fideles”,
And Scrooge, not himself, felt, “oh my –
I’d better reform – I’m financially ‘warm’ –
But for naught will that count when I die.”
So he got up next morn – tried his best for to act
The semblance of Fun Mr. Jolly:
Called on Bob and his family – gear for them packed,
Of turkey and puddings and holly.
And chucked on the chin, Bob’s wretched lame brat
(Thinking privately, “Darwin’d take care, best, of that”);
Amid festive farewells he left, tipping his hat –
And reflecting, “these dorks, worth it – how?”
And the band played “Adeste Fideles”,
And Scrooge thought, “What have I done?
This role I must play – as the Jews say, ‘oy veh’ –
Life-long now: or my credit’s all gone.”
And so he went on, under spookish duress,
Making out he was charitable and merry.
Not a natural actor – the thing did oppress;
But high stakes they did motivate, very.
He hoped the World Wars might end “festive goodwill”:
Poor fool – they made folk yet more hooked on it, still;
He thought, “some might ‘get’ people, but I never will” –
It could be, that old Scrooge was an alien.
And the band went on playing “Adeste”,
The twentieth century all through;
Scrooge thought: this is batshit – while the world goes to ratshit –
Is it me that is crazy; or you?
Now every December, at his office door,
Scrooge watches the waits pass before him;
He finds all their carolling such a damned bore –
Outright glad he is, that they ignore him.
They jolly, twee ditties unendingly spout:
He wishes to God, that they might just fade out –
And the young heathens ask, “What’s this crap all about?”
And Scrooge asks himself the same question.
And the band plays “Adeste Fideles”,
These days, commerce is mostly concerned:
Should inspire from Scrooge, cheers – but he’s lived two hundred years;
And he feels – some oblivion he’s earned.
Sangahyando: Bravo! I love it! 
I’d like to see a film version of a “Christmas carol”-directed by Quentin Tarentino-everybody gets hacked to death.
Just discovered this thread – fantastic!!
I guess I might try my hand at doing a version as Cervantes might have written the story… 
“In a city somewhere in England, whose name I don’t want to recall…”
Hmmm…
Creators of Stranger Things-
Time to bring this one back, because it is that time of year again. Any contributions?
By Harlan Ellison
A Christmas Carol?
Pfui! I’m Jewish!
Well, if I must:
There was a kindred spirit named Ebenezer Scrooge. He was a good, frugal man-of-business and managed to live comfortably when everyone else didn’t listen to their mothers and go into dentistry and were out of work and broke. He had a partner named Marley who died but didn’t leave a will, allowing Scrooge to lay claim to his left-behind belongings and fortune. One December 24th, he was retiring for the night when he was imposed upon by the spectre of his ex-partner. Ghosts of relatives can always be ignored, but this one had religious leanings so Ebenezer figured he’d better listen; besides, there might be a way to turn a profit from the encounter. So he listened, he listened. And heard:
“You will be visited by three spirits who will teach you something about your life and you better pay attention to them or you’ll plotz! Gotta go, I’m late for Shabbat. See you in the funny papers!” And he was gone – out the window, leaving it wide open, like Scrooge had nothing better to do than heat the outside.
Such meshuggahs! ES thought, heading off to a night of restful slumber. One hour later, the Goyish of Christmas Past put in an appearance, had its say, and beat it. An hour after that, the Ghoul of Christmas Present escorted him around town – in his nightclothes, yet – and showed him things he already knew; nothing new here. At the conclusion of that little soirée, the dude in the dirty sheets with no face showed up and guided him around to various and sundry futuristic scenes of what his life could/might be.
Then he took it on the lam, leaving our old friend Mr. Good-Man-of-Business to sort out the details. After finishing up his sleepytime, of course.
Scrooge learned a valuable lesson from the aforementioned hauntings: He kicked a largish sum of money to charity so as to get the tax break on this years return to Uncle Grubby.
And life went on. For some. Others became ghosts.
Booo!
I was goin g to do a parody called The Cratchit in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, but upon further review, if you imagine the story told by Tiny Tim, the actual opening works just as well.
If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is
where I was born, an what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were
occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I
don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, that stuff
bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece
if I told anything pretty personal about them. They’re quite touchy about anything like
that, especially my father. They’re nice and all–I’m not saying that–but they’re also
touchy as hell. Besides, I’m not going to tell you my whole goddam autobiography or
anything. I’ll just tell you about this madman stuff that happened to me around last
Christmas just before I got pretty run-down and had to come out here and take it easy