Browsing in Marshalls Homegoods like an idiot the other day, I heard a song where the main gist was that someone wanted an alien for Christmas. It was actually quite catchy, and I wished it wasn’t about a goddamn alien because aliens just don’t say Christmas to my crazy-ass brain. That said, I’m open enough to consider adoring more unconventional Christmas songs, such as this one titled ‘Champagne Drops’ by a group called My Bubba. It was part of a Scandinavian holiday playlist that someone put together inspired by hygge, and it’s become part of our holiday repertoire.
Feels like come- way dance me round
Nuts crack under the soles our feet a Christmas sound
Reindeer making out on the couch all day long
Champagne drops on our ear drums pops
From the cork in the big kitchen pantry
Did I do a deep-dive into what these lyrics might mean? Nah. I don’t have time to over-analyze a Christmas treasure when I find one. Just indulge in the sweet holiday lullaby and shut up. It’s goddamn Christmas for Christ’s sake. Show some respect. I mean… fuck.
Feels like come- way dance me round
Feels like come- way dance me round, round, round
This joins the ranks of the Hawaiian way of saying Merry Christmas or that hippopotamus bullshit – novelty songs that take a hold in your brain and don’t let up until you find a new way of hating on Christmas for all that it’s done to our heads. (By the way, hippos are no fucking joke. Look it up. They’re dangerous.) Maybe this song is more tolerable to me because it hasn’t been force-fed upon my ears for forty-plus years. Give it time. I’ll probably hate it by next year – but not as much as I hate the one about you forgetting the cranberries too.
Feels like come- way dance me round
Nuts crack under the soles our feet a Christmas sound
Reindeer making out on the couch all day long
Champagne drops on our ear drums pops
From the cork in the big kitchen pantry
Feels like come- way dance me round
Feels like come- way dance me round, round, round.
