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Carol Kings

December 23, 2006

“Kay sigla ng gabi,
ang lahat ay kay saya.
Nagluto ang Ate
ng manok na tinola.
Sa bahay ng Kuya
ay mayroong litsunan pa.
Ang bawat tahanan,
may handang iba’t iba.”    

The carolers at our neighborhood are usually little children rattling flattened bottle caps on a string of wire. Their pre-pubescent voices feel like barbed wire digging into flesh. The tone of the song is forgotten, replaced by a memorized sing-song monotone pitched at a volume that is meant to annoy, not to entertain. In our street, you pay carolers to shut up.

The song itself is boastful, like the little children who sing it. The lyrics brag about the feasts in the households of relatives. Talo ka sa lolo ko. We have more food than you do. You wouldn’t believe how much food we have. We will stuff our faces with all this food, gorge ourselves on this meat and chicken dipped in sauces so thick, your arteries will clog just by inhaling its mouth-watering vapors. What will we do with all this food? The neighbors will be so jealous. That’s what the song says. That’s what the little children sing. But they rattle their flattened bottle caps and knock on your door (or gate) begging for spare change.   

You, as the unwilling audience of this horrible song, shout “Patawad!” (“Sorry”) which can mean two things: 

A) Patawarin ninyo ako, mga bata, dahil wala akong pera na maibibigay sa inyo.
B) Pinapatawad ko na kayo, mga anak ng demonyo, araw-araw nyo na binabalikan ang bahay ko.

 

In which case, they (the carolers, the little children, these wonderful angels) will reply in the same sing-song monotone: “Thank you, thank you, ang babarat ninyo, FUCK YOU!” and hurry off giggling like gremlins until they reach the next house.

 

Written by exsanguinatrix · Filed Under BLOG, Blogging, Music 

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