Stafford: Updated takes on classic Christmas carols

Come, they told him,

Ta-rum-pum-pum, pump.

You are the president,

Ta-rum-pum-pum, pump.

Next White House resident,

Ta-rum-pum-pum, pump.

For once be pleasant

Ta-rum-pum-pum, pump

Rum-pum-pum, pump

Rum-pum-pum, pump.

Welcome to the annual Christmas carol column.

More carols in a moment, but first, this breaking news.

Famous North Polesters Santa and Mrs. Claus, are busy trying to point out that their kind of polester is spelled differently from the pollsters who drifted so far from true north on election night.

The red state of their clothing likely will save the Clauses from any political repercussions. (A few white nationalists are applauding the trim color of Santa’s suit.) For a little while, the changed political climate had the Clauses as nervous as a polar bear at a global warming summit.

To make sure everything goes smoothly on Christmas Eve, Santa has texted Trump Tower that he plans to punish the pollsters Christmas morning by leaving coal in their Christmas stockings — clean coal, of course.

Now, back to the carols.

As you all know, the tune has changed at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.

The hair apparent to the People’s House also has a penchant for borrowing the People’s Elbow with some regularity from Dwayne Johnson, a.k.a., The Rock.

And, in fact, all these changes mean this second tune in this carol column comes not from the list of traditional yuletide melodies, no, no. In an effort to be unpredictable, I’m tapping the early rock tune “Rockin’ Robin.”

He’ll stomp ‘round the White House

all day long,

Wheelin’ and a dealin’

and carryin’ on.

All his strong supporters

back on Main Street

Will wait for night when Donald

goes Tweet, Tweet Tweet,

Tweetin’ Donald, tweet, tweet, tweet.

Tweetin’ Donald, tweet, tweedily-tweet.

Hey, Tweetin’ Donald,

whatcha gonna tweet us tonight?

Of course, Donald’s Democratic rival isn’t the only one who had the tables turned on her when she thought she had the election locked up. (Insert smile emoji.)

Many Republican also-rans were saddened by the results of primary elections. This song is dedicated to the saddest of them all, to the tune of Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer, starting with the intro.

You know Carson, Santorum, Paul Ryan and Rubio … Pence, Jeb Bush, Rand Paul and Jindahl… but do you recall, the most hapless candidate of all?

New Jersey’s own Chris Christie,

Chose to strike a toady’s pose.

And when he fawned on Donald,

You could see his brownish nose.

First he was snubbed for v.p.,

dropped from the transition team,

Then the New Jersey governor,

Was robbed of all his dignity.

Weeks after the votes were cast,

Donald’s team delays,

He tried to help them in the fight

Can they find a job that’s right?

Now all of Jersey loathes him,

And he’s fallen to his knees.

New Jersey’s own Chris Christie,

Has gone down in history.

Oxymorons are terms that seem to contradict themselves: Jumbo shrimp, lead balloon, old news and, of course, Hollywood marriages.

Still, I’m sure some of you were as shocked as I was when Brad and Angelina split. And that nanny whose car came between Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner? What’s in her wallet?

To the grand tune of O Come all Ye Faithful, here’s one for the marriages made in Hollywood.

O, come all unfaithful

Singers and performers

O come ye, O come ye

To tabloid land.

There in the grocery,

We’ll wait in expectation.

O when will she divorce him?

O why doesn’t he leave her?

Are all their children aliens?

Find out today!

Now I’d like to talk with you about a serious matter: Christmas creep. It’s not just Randy Quaid in his RV outside Clark and Ellen Griswold’s home any more. Before Halloween candy even had a chance to start the process of tooth decay this year, Christmas music was playing in the aisles of stores, a trend that has the holiday itself creeping back toward the retailers’ goal of Christmas in July.

With our most patriotic tune as a backdrop, here’s a glimpse at what it will be like when the Spirit of Christmas meets the Spirit of ’76 at the Fourth of July.

O say can you see

In the air by aisle nine

What they’ve got on display,

Though the heat has us wilting?

Midst the twinkle and glow

Of the colorful lights,

O’er the grills and the tanks

That are filled up with propane?

There way up in the air,

In the laser lights’ glare

He flies through the night,

Yes, old Santa is there.