Lucy Vickery

Christmas hits rewritten as sonnets

‘It’s Crimbo! Unafraid, we’ll ban the shadows, /And spend our higher incomes bringing grins…’ [Photo by Duncan Raban/Popperfoto via Getty Images] 
issue 19 December 2020

In Competition No. 3179 you were invited to submit a Christmas hit single rewritten as a sonnet.

This seasonal challenge was embraced with gusto, and highlights, in a magnificent entry, ranged from Ian Barker’s version of Jona Lewie’s catchy and affecting ‘Stop the Cavalry’ to Basil Ransome-Davies’s reworking of the peerless Eartha Kitt’s innuendo-laden ‘Santa Baby’. Commendations also go to Matthew Wright, Ross McAlpine, Mary McLean, Sarah Hill, David Silverman and Richard Spencer, but the festive winnings of £20 apiece are awarded to the authors of the sonnets printed below.

The trials of the year have done nothing to diminish your wit and skill; thank you for all your submissions, which it has been a pleasure to judge. A happy Christmas to you all.

It’s Crimbo! Unafraid, we’ll ban the shadows, And spend our higher incomes bringing grins. Let’s hug our third world pals, and not be saddoes. While you are noshing turkey, downing gins, Consider those whose world is very scary, Whose sobs provide the only water source — In countries where the bells mean this: Be Wary Where Death is ever-present. Feel remorse! Be thankful that it’s Africans who suffer; They won’t get snow, they might get half a life.They have no rivers, crops, it’s all much tougher. They’ve no idea it’s Christmas! Fear is rife. So, cheers, my starving dears. No more disparity! Feel guilty, give them scoff. It’s Christmas charity!Bill Greenwell/‘Do They Know it’s Christmas?’

Let carollers with cheerful voices singOf new times coming as the old times goAnd, dreaming of Saint Nicholas and snowGreet Christmas and the little child born king.May living, giving, trusting, loving, joyAnd laughter lighten everybody’s heartAs evil doings of the past deparWhile following in the footsteps of the boy.Then let us all repeat this sweet refrainOf log fires, presents, mistletoe and wineFor one born king, the child of David’s line,And, having sung it, sing it through again!Again, again, again, and yet againTill, earworm-like, it bores into the brain.Alan

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