Christmas Is Now Drawing Near At Hand

When picturing Victorian winters, the seasonal carols we hum as a soundtrack are usually the jolly, catchy efforts that have withstood the test of time - such as Ding Dong Merrily On High or O Come All Ye Faithful - conjuring, as they do, images of gaily bedecked halls, a plump goose on the table and rosy-cheeked gentlemen in hearty cheer, throwing another pauper on the fire. If we step outside into the street to see beggars tramping through the snow and withered, whiskered men holding their top hats on in the icy wind, we'll probably opt for the more solemn In The Bleak Midwinter, or that best friend of every director who's ever adapted A Christmas Carol: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. But there were other carols far more popular at the time which have since all but died out in popular Christmas custom; we hang on to the ones which allow us an idealised view of the Victorian age, while quietly burying the ones which make them look like a bunch of nasty, judgemental, snobbish, sanctimonious gobshites.

One such song is Christmas Is Now Drawing Near At Hand; it's of local interest because it seems to have been first printed in Digbeth (yes, those miserable Brummie bastards at it again) before circulating farther afield. The lyrics are essentially a proto Daily Mail rant about the moral bankruptcy of the nation, damning people to hellfire for buying fashionable clothes and children for swearing at one another rather than reciting the Lord's Prayer 8,000 times a day. Had they held off writing the song for another 150 years, I'm sure they could have shoehorned in a few verses about immigrants, single mothers, binge drinking and the carcinogenic effects of the Labour party.

It's never exactly been dance-around-the-room stuff, but here it's performed hypnotically by the amazing and much-missed Lal Waterson. Appreciate the song as an example of how times may change, but prudish conservative hypocrites will forever stay the same.


Christmas is now drawing near at hand
Come serve the Lord and be at his command
And God a portion for you will provide
And give a blessing to your soul besides

Down in the garden where flowers grow in ranks
Down on your bended knees and give the Lord thanks
Down on your knees and pray both night and day
Leave off your sins and live upright I pray

So proud and lofty is some sort of sin
Which many take delight and pleasure in
Whose conversation God doth much dislike
And yet he shakes his sword before he strike

So proud and lofty do some people go
Dressing themselves like players in a show
They patch and paint and dress with idle stuff
As if God had not made 'em fine enough

Even little children learn to curse and swear
And can't rehearse one word of godly prayer
Oh teach them better, oh teach them to rely
On Christ the sinner's friend who reigns on high