Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, It May Be Your Last...

Though it's Christmas Day – and I'm visiting in my sister in Philadelphia, as I've been doing for the last umpteen years –  as the title suggests, this post is not full of Christmas cheer. I'm reading a NYTimes op ed by Bruce Murphy, who has chosen to write about a song we've heard countless times in shopping malls, those that remain, elevators, and Starbucks. It's about a song whose familiar lyrics start like this:

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light Next year all our troubles will be out of sight

The original lyrics are quite different:

Have yourself a merry little Christmas It may be your last Next year we may all be living in the past

The song debuted on Meet Me in St. Louis in 1944, where it was sung by Judy Garland, who sang the familiar lyrics, not the original ones. It's about a St. Louis family whose lives are about to be disrupted because Daddy got a promotion that will take them to New York. The girls are distraught that their lives are about to be turned topsy-turvy. So the original lyrics are quite appropriate to the situation. But the producers wouldn't buy it, and neither did Garland. So the lyrics were changed.
Murphy had just heard the original lyrics at a concert, was moved by them, and thought them appropriate to our current national situation. Though he never mentioned the election of Sir Little Hands of the Bad Hair Day as President, that must have been one of the things he had in mind. So, in honor of Lord Bling Bling of the Rattling Sabres I give you a third version:

Have yourself a merry little Trump Day It may be your last Next year our tiny atoms will join the clouds...