This Christmas–like last Christmas, and the one before that , and the one before that….–hundreds of thousands of our countrymen and women are far from their homes and families, fighting the endless wars and otherwise serving the anti-American Empire. (Obscenely, mothers are even separated from their young children.) Herewith three songs about Christmas and distance: one by a Texas outlaw (http://youtu.be/2IpckS2ZiXw), another by an Arkansas traveler (http://youtu.be/w7HVtZhx6XU), and a third by a sweet girl from Akron, Ohio (http://youtu.be/Nmx3QC7n6sk). Merry Christmas.

Local Culture
Local Culture
Local Culture
Local Culture

6 COMMENTS

  1. Bill,
    To this good list I add one we all know: “Christmas in the Trenches” by John McCutcheon. It’s sentimental I admit, but here is the conclusion:

    “That the ones who call the shots won’t be among the dead and lame
    and on each end of the rifle we’re the same.”

  2. Yeah, Chris, a powerful song about the World War I Christmas Truce. As for “the ones who call the shots won’t be among the dead and lame,” it’s time to revive William Jennings Bryan’s proposal that “those who voted for war” and “jingo newspaper editors” be the first ones sent Over There.

  3. Good recommendations from two of my favorite speakers (especially) and writers. Here’s my recommendation to you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jz_NrrjBf8

    It’s eighteenth-century Bohemian carol settings by Edmund Pacha (1715-78), performed by a part-choir, a women’s choir, soloists, and a small orchestra including a fine complement of folk wind instruments that sound like what you might here naturally when you’re out watching your sheep of a winter’s eve.

    If you like them, there are two more sets of them (same recording forces) and Pascha’s excellent Christmas Mass also available on youtube.

    Merry and blessed Christmas to you both, to your charming wives and brilliant children!

  4. An addendum.

    I’m not wearing my laptop glasses, and my spelling went to hell. Sorry. The composer’s name is Pascha, and you’ll be hearing, not hereing, on that hypothetical wintry Bohemian hillside.

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