Danse Macabre III: When Humanism Gets...Sucular

Friday, December 8, 2006

When Humanism Gets...Sucular

The following Christmas carols might have been written by the Danse Macabre legal department. Can you guess the original titles?

1. Move Hither The Entire Assembly Of Those Who Are Loyal In Their Belief (answer: "O Come All Ye Faithful!" - ok, now you're on your own! :-)

2. Embellish Interior Passageways

3. Vertically Challenged Adolescent Percussionist

4. First Person Singular Experiencing An Hallucinatory Phenomenon Of A Natal Celebration Devoid Of Color

5. Soundless Nocturnal Period

6. Majestic Triplet Referred To In The First Person Plural

7. The Yuletide Occurance Preceding All Others

8. Precious Metal Musical Devices

9. Omnipotent Supreme Being Elicit Respite To Ecstatic Distinguished Males

10. Caribou With Vermillion Olfactory Appendage

11. Allow Crystalline Formations To Descend

12. Jovial Yuletide Desired For The Second Person Singular Or Plural By The First Person Plural

13. Commence Auditory Reception The Announcing Cherubs Vocalize

14. Kris Kringle Will Be Arriving In The City In The Not Too Distant Future

15. Bipedal Traveling Through An Amazing Acreage During The Period Between December 21st And March 21st In The Northern Hemisphere

16. Its Arrival Occurred At Twelve O'Clock During A Clement Nocturnal Period

17. Exclamatory Remark Concerning A Diminutive Municipality In Judea Southwest Of Jerusalem

18. Song of Mirth About the Seat of the Intellect of an Uncastrated Porcine Male

19. Primary Color Between Green and Violet In The Visible Spectrum Annual Festival of the Christian Church Commemorating the Birth of Jesus

20. Female Ancestor Came Against With An Impact And Knocked Down By Large Deer of the Genus Rangifer, of Northern and Arctic Regions of Europe, Asia, and North America

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A Visit From J.S. Bach 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the city The critics were trying their best to be witty; They printed their lists of the past year's best fare, In hopes that their trendy young readers would care; But the readers were nestled all snug in their beds, While vacuous pop idols danced in their heads; And the Maestro in PJs, and I in my drawers, Had just settled in to examine some scores, When out on the lawn, such cacaphonous sound, I sprang from my desk thinking Zorn was in town. I rushed to the window, allegro con brio, Tore open the shutters — I just had to see! Oh, The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what should my wondering eyes linger over, But an old harpsichord and eight ghostly composers, With an old kappelmeister conducting the flock – I knew in a moment it had to be Bach. More rapid than Valkyries, onward they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; "Now, Mozart! now, Lassus! now, Schoenberg and Dvorak! On, Cage! on Beethoven! on, Haydn and Bartok! To the dominant seven! To suspended six-four! Now dash away! dash away! appoggiatur'!" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So off to a new key they all modulated, For Bach would leave no variation unstated. A caseura, and then on the roof could be heard A cadence resolved with a picardy third. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney old J.S. Bach came with a bound. He was dressed up for Weimar in 1710 And his fingers were stained with the ink from his pen; An un-finished score could be seen to protrude From his pocket — the title said "Die Kunst der Fugue." His eyes—how they twinkled with genius – none finer! He did, after all, write the Mass in B Minor. His mouth was a droll as a tonicization, His wig was a white as unspoiled glaciation; He carried a record of naughty and niceness – That list was as long as the Bach Werke Verzeichnis! His belly looked like it could use a supporter And shook when he laughed, like a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte. He was chubby and plump, a well tempered old master, And I laughed when I saw him, then wished I'd thought faster; A wink, and a line from a two-part invention, Soon showed me that I should feel no apprehension; He spoke not a word, but went straight to composing, A Musical Offering – it looked quite imposing, Then humming some bars from the St. Matthew Passion, He rose up the chimney in a glorious fashion; He sprang to the keys, raised his hands to the sky And away they all flew, at Allegro Assai, But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

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