Call me Grinch. Call me Scrooge. But that wretched “Little Drummer Boy” Christmas song. Augh. All that rum-pum-pum-pumming … tell me you don’t think that’s annoying?
Sure, the chanson tells a great story and all … but really. Let’s take a minute to think about that poor drummer boy’s mom. She’s trying to milk the goat in peace, and he’s got the family’s wooden spoon rum-pum-pumming on their small collection of pots and pans. How aggravating.
I’d bet that little terror wasn’t just walking by the night baby Jesus was born … his mom probably sent him out to fetch some water just so she could have a couple of quiet minutes of solitude. He probably stopped by the barn to give a free concert for the cows and pigs and low and behold, there were people lying in there on the hay! “A human audience!” he likely thought.
And off he went, rum-pum-pumming on whatever he could find. How many moms would happily invite someone to make a ruckus while their infant was trying to sleep: “Mary nodded pa rum pum pum pum…” More like “Mary grimaced.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for “Silent Night” or “The First Noel.” I’ll even sing along with “The Wassail Song,” even though I have no idea what “wassail” is. But please, please, please … no rum-pum-pumming for me.
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