Barry Smith: Yuletide arias | AspenTimes.com

Barry Smith: Yuletide arias

STRANDED IN A WINTER WONDERLAND

(To the tune of “Walkin’ in a Winter Wonderland”)

Cell phones ring, are you listenin’?

People moanin’ and pissin’

Our trust in United, was somewhat short-sighted

Stranded in a winter wonderland.

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In the meadow they can build a runway

All employees will have phony smiles

We’ll say, “Are you flying?” They’ll say “No way.”

“And you just lost your frequent flier miles.”

Later on we’ll bemoan

Get the boss on the phone

We’re stuck here tonight, there aren’t any flights

Stranded in a winter wonderland.

HAVE A MELANCHOLY CHRISTMAS

(To the tune of “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas”)

Have a melancholy Christmas

It’s a bleak time of the year

I’ll sit around feeling all depressed

Drinking lots of beer

It was better when I was younger

Now I’m old and square

So I wander the house drinking rum and coke

In my dingy underwear

Oh, ho, the mistletoe

I wonder if I can smoke it?

No one would kiss me anyway

So I just stay home and stroke it.

I guess it could be worse

At least it’s not my birthday

So have a melancholy Christmas

It’s a messed up holiday!

A GAY IN A MANGER

(To the tune of “Away in a Manger”)

A gay in a manger, no crib for his bed

Our savior has realized he likes guys instead

The signs were all there, what the hell did you think

“Love your brother,” nudge nudge, wink wink

He hung out with 12 guys and forgave and forgat

(Not that there’s anything wrong with that)

I pray that my theory the world will embrace

Just to see the look on Pat Robertson’s face.

IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE AN ISTHMUS

(To the tune of “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas”)

It’s beginning to look a lot like an isthmus

Every time I check

My hair just stopped growing on the top

But I still have to shave my neck

It’s beginning to look a lot like an isthmus

Curse this family gene

Though it’s no surprise, now I realize

I’m no longer 19

LITTLE BOMBER BOY

(To the tune of “Little Drummer Boy”)

Come and let us drop

A-Bomb-on-Saddam

Although I’m not sure why

A-Bomb-on-Saddam

Cause Dubbya’s all riled up

A-Bomb-on-Saddam

Bomb-on-Saddam

Bomb-on-Saddam

We couldn’t seem to drop

A-Bomb-on-Osama

Instead we bombed some people

Wearing-pajamas

Oh, hell, let’s drop a bomb on

All-of-Islama

Yokohama

The Dalai Lama

When all of THEM are dead, drop

A-Bomb-on-my-mom

And while you’re at it why not

On-my-friend-Tom

They’re called pre-emptive strikes, let’s

Bomb-Every-One

Bomb-Every-One

Bomb-Every-One

Then we’ll be done …

[Barry Smith’s column runs in The Aspen Times on Monday and Thursday. His e-mail address is barry@Irrelativity.com, and his very own Web page is at http://www.Irrelativity.com]