Winter Song - Lindisfarne
In these days of commerciality, of war unopposed if not endorsed by "Christian" nations, of poverty and homelessness, I wonder how rigorously these subjects will be addressed in the midnight masses and Christmas morning services around the world.
They could do worse than sing Alan Hull's beautiful, no-nonsense ballad that lays bare the hypocrisies of the festive season. Here's the songsheet, get there early, slip it in the hymn books and sing along with Yuletide gusto; and then go home.
"When winter's shadowy fingers
first pursue you down the street
and your boots no longer lie
about the cold around your feet
do you spare a thought for summer
whose passage is complete
whose memories lie in ruins
and whose ruins lie in heat
when winter comes howling in?
When the wind is singing strangely
blowing music through your head
and your rain splattered windows
make you decide to stay in bed
do you spare a thought for the homeless tramp
who wishes he was dead
or do you pull your bedclothes higher,
dream of summertime instead
when winter comes howling in?
The creeping cold has fingers
that caress without permission
and mystic crystal snowdrops
only aggravate the condition
do you spare one thought for the gypsy
with no secure position
who's turned and spurned by village and town
at the magistrate's decision
when winter comes howling in?
When the turkey's in the oven
and the Christmas presents are bought
and Santa's in his module
-he's an American astronaut-
do you spare one thought for Jesus
who had nothing but his thoughts
who got busted just for talking
and befriending the wrong sorts
when winter comes howling in?
When winter comes howling in."