Christmas carols, ranked by how many lines you know before tailing off

WE love them and know them, or at least a few lines before going blank. Here are Christmas carols rated by how many lines you can sing, from least to most:

In The Bleak Midwinter – 0.5 lines

The first four words are the title, after which you’re f**ked. ‘Snow lay all around’? ‘Jesus was a child’? ‘Stars shone from the sky’? You’ve heard it a thousand times and always zoned straight out of this forbidding dirge.

I Saw Three Ships (Come Sailing In) – 1 line

The title’s clear and it’s one of those with a nice merry tune, but after that? Is it ‘On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day’ or is that just muscle memory from all the times you’ve cheerfully improvised? What do these ships have to do with anything, anyway? They’re never mentioned in any other aspect of Christmas, whether Biblical or Santa.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen – 2 lines

Again, once you’ve sung ‘on Christmas Day’ it seems impossible to stop. The rest of the verse can be filled by repeating that until a final ‘On Christmas Day in the morning!’ so why bother learning more?

The Holly And The Ivy – 2.5 lines

You thread your way through the surprisingly intricate melody, impressed that your memory’s leading you there so surefootedly, then hit ‘the rising of the sun’ and you’re in the void of the unknown, lost in the forest, blundering. Stop here. Nobody will judge you.

Ding Dong Merrily On High – 3 lines

Though technically two of them – the first and third – are the same line, and the title. Nonetheless, that’s a good chunk of the song you’re into before you, and all the other once-a-year churchgoers, fall silent and look round at each other mouthing ‘You too?’

O Come All Ye Faithful – 4 lines

We’re going all the way to Bethlehem on this one, before taking two lines off to gather breath for the good bit. You know? The good bit, where you begin quietly then belt it right out making the stained glass rattle? And pleasing God, presumably. Enjoy it, big man.

Silent Night – whole verse

Drop the tempo, drop the word count and now a whole verse is possible. Such an achievement that it feels like the whole song is in your grasp. It isn’t. There are another two verses about shepherds and radiant beams you’ve never deigned to notice.

Away In A Manger – 3 verses

Four-word lines and four-line verses and bang, you’re right up to Jesus not making any crying because your brain keeps coming up with words accidentally memorised during your infant school nativity and never forgotten. It’s a Christmas miracle! Shit tune though.

Why people today don't deserve a merry Christmas. By the Daily Telegraph

By columnist Norman Steele

THIS week I witnessed a disturbing scene. A young woman handed a small gift-wrapped parcel to another. ‘Merry Christmas, Suze!’ she said. ‘Thanks Emma!’ came the reply. I felt sick to the stomach.

Have we as a nation become so entitled, so accustomed to suckling on the rancid teat of the bloated welfare state, that we now expect to receive gifts for no reason? Are we such weaklings we would rather give ‘bath bombs’ than drop real bombs on Dresden and Cologne?

Christmas cheer has become an epidemic. On every high street, in every television advertisement, even in the workplace, we are urged to give ‘presents’. But what has our cossetted modern society done to earn it? Nothing. 

Millions of Britons lead a life of Riley on benefits. Millions more contribute nothing by working from home or in public sector non-jobs such as refuse collector or doctor. Many are Hamas sympathisers, still more are practising transsexualists. Quite simply, we do not deserve a ‘Merry Christmas’.

Women and the young are particularly susceptible to the woke ‘presents’ fad, I have noticed. On Tuesday my grandchildren informed me they wanted a ‘Peppa Pig Birthday House’ and an abomination known as a ‘Hatchimal’. In saner Victorian times they would have been grateful to receive an apple and a stick.

Even my wife, normally a stout, reliable type not given to flights of fancy, has indicated that she ‘would like some nice chocolates’. I have assured her this will not be happening. I have already given her children.

This orgy of hedonism – chocolate Brazil nuts, new slippers, repeats of Dr No – must stop. Are Lindt Mini-Praline Selections what the pilots of the Battle of Britain and the sailors of Nelson’s navy fought and died for?

No. They expected only a short and brutal life with the likelihood of horrific maiming. That is what we should aspire to today.