When Carolers Go Bad

Despite my love of singing and old-timey costumes, I have never been caroling. (And for all of you out there thinking to yourself, You don’t have to wear old-timey costumes to carol correctly, I respectfully disagree.)

You see, while a large part of me would love nothing more than going door to door and sing at the top of my lungs for unsuspecting homeowners who thought their pizza was finally being delivered, fear keeps me from doing so. Not fear of the aforementioned homeowners. I’m sure they’re lovely folk who will either enjoy the attempt at harmonious singing or politely slam their doors in my face. Both fine, understandable reactions.

No, I’m scared of the other carolers.

And all my fear stems from one song – “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

Sure, it starts out all nice. A group of carolers singing for the sheer joy of it. Hearts brimming with holiday spirit and goodwill toward men.

We wish you a Merry Christmas

We wish you a Merry Christmas

We wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year

Good tidings we bring to you and your kin

Good tidings for Christmas and a Happy New Year

See? Lovely. The good intentions can not be disputed. But you see, one of the carolers invariably points out that while singing’s great and all, shouldn’t the get a little something for brightening up the evenings of everyone in the neighborhood? Not money, of course. But they’ve been at this for hours and it’s cold and they’re hungry. So, maybe just a snack. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? Just a little snack. And to show people that their demands are indeed friendly, they’ll ask for their sustenance in song.

Oh, bring us a figgy pudding

Oh, bring us a figgy pudding

Oh, bring us a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer

And here’s where things take a turn for the worse. The recipients of the carols don’t get why they have to provide treats when none of the previous houses did. They balk at carol inflation. And, see, the carolers don’t take too well to that. They want some damn figgy pudding (side note: fire person in charge of snack choice) and mob mentality takes over.

We won’t go until we get some

We won’t go until we get some

We won’t go until we get some, so bring it out here

So, in the course of one song, we see initially well meaning people transform from a group of happy souls wanting nothing more than to spread happiness, to an angry gang roaming the streets and terrorizing homeowners for pudding. One can only assume that their threatening antics are successful, as the song then reverts back to it’s original verse, proving the carolers voracious pudding needs have been sated. If not, I imagine the song would have continued on like this:

We ransacked your kitchen pantry

We ransacked your kitchen pantry

We ransacked your kitchen pantry, but found only one beer

We can’t all share one beverage

We can’t all share one beverage

We can’t all share one beverage, let us make that quite clear

We’re just gonna take your money

We’re just gonna take your money

We’re just gonna take your money, as a little souvenir

Now, let’s all go get some dinner

Now, let’s all go get some dinner

Now, let’s all go get some dinner, and never again volunteer

And this is why I don’t carol. I’m afraid of what would happen to me if I tried to be the voice of reason. And I’m even more afraid of getting swept up into the belligerent horde. I mean, it would be bad enough to wake up the next morning, having come to my senses, and realize that I sang-yelled at the little old lady who always waves to me from her porch. But to know that I ate figgy pudding? I don’t think I have the strength of mind to deal with that.