(A very Barnsley take on The Night Before Christmas... 🎶)

It were t’neet afoor Christmas
And darn in his shed
Uncle Trevor looked up from his workbench and said
‘What can I get Janet, the love of my life
My soulmate, my helpmeet, my darling, my wife?
She doesn’t like chocolate, she’s not into hiking
When I got her some clothes
They weren’t to her liking
The Ballooning experience: that was a flop
As was the voucher for that shut-down shop.’
And all across Grimethorpe the snow gently fell
With a sound like the sea in a Bridlington shell

Then out in the yard there arose such a clatter
And Trevor ran off to see what was the matter;
It was dark so straight over a bucket he tripped
And his cardy got mucky and his kecks they got ripped
The moon on the white shirt of new-fallen snow
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below:
Old Trevor, sprawled out like he was fast asleep
And the snow was still falling and getting quite deep

Then through the blizzard just what should appear
But a sledge like a limo pulled by eight reindeer
And each of the reindeer was playing a tune
That shone like the light of the bright winter moon
And the music they played was just pulsing with class
Because they were playing real soul music: brass!

At the front of the sledge Father Christmas was stood
Conducting the tunes that poured out in a flood
And Trevor was transfixed in Grimethorpe delight
As the music flowed over that Christmas Eve night:

Now Dasher, now Dancer, play cornets, now play
As Christmas Eve trickles towards Christmas Day!
Now Prancer, Now Vixen, your flugel shall sound
All over the streets and the cold snowy ground!
Now Comet, your tuba sounds just like a dream
You’re sounding so hot that you’re giving off steam!
Now Cupid, I love what you do to my ears
Euphonium sobbing with powerful tears!
Now Donner and Blitzen your horns fill the air
With passion and beauty and daring and flair!

And then as Trevor he stood there and danced
Like a dad at a wedding, he took a quick glance
And saw a young reindeer stood there on his own
Like a tree in a desert. Just one. All alone.

The reindeer’s nose was as red as red sauce
And the reindeer’s name, it was Rudolph, of course
And when all the notes had been played with and blown
A plaintive tune started, on the trombone...

Father Christmas then said, with a smile on his face
‘Trevor: this is her present and here is the case.’
And Trevor remembered the trombone she lost
That he couldn’t afford because of the cost

And the snow kept on falling, as through the back door
Janet appeared, as the snow fell some more
He gave her the trombone; her eyes shone with delight
And she started to play on that freezing cold night

And she joined with the band, and our tale is complete;
They all started moving down Grimethorpe’s High Street
And the whole town was dancing to this Christmas beat
And clapping and whooping and stamping their feet
Janet played her trombone and it sounded a treat
So Merry Christmas to all. And to all a good neet!

--

Words by Ian McMillan, based on the poem 'A Visit From St Nicholas' attributed to Clement Clarke Moore.

Music by Luke Carver Goss for Grimethorpe Colliery Band, Christmas 2022.

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