Well here we go.
 White xmas ranks top dog with this santa maybe not a carol  but will do me.
If anyone gets the chance a night on the banks of the Yarra River is a great night out, every one just relaxed  "Give it  A GO'

Early on one Christmas Day, a Joey Kanga-roo
Was far from home and lost in a great big zoo
Mummy, where's my mummy, they've taken her a-way
We'll help you find your mummy son, hop on the sleigh

[Verse:]
Up beside the bag of toys, little Joey hopped
But they had'nt gone far when Santa stopped
Un-harnessed all the reindeer and Joey wondered why
Then he heard a far off booming in the sky

[Chorus:]
Six white boomers, snow white boomers
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun
Six white boomers, snow white boomers
.. On his Aus-tra-lian run

Pretty soon old Santa began to feel the heat
Took his fur-lined boots off to cool his feet
Into one popped Joey, feeling quite OK
While those old man kangaroos kept pulling on the sleigh

Joey said to Santa, Santa, what about the toys
Aren't you giving some to these girls and boys
They've all got their presents son, we were here last night
This trip is an extra trip, Joey's special flight

Soon the sleigh was flashing past, right over Marble Bar
Slow down there, cried Santa, it can't be far
Come up on my lap son, and have a look around
There she is, that's mummy, bounding up and down

Well that's the bestest Christmas treat that Joey ever had
Curled up in mother's pouch all snug and glad
The last they saw was Santa headed northward from the sun
The only year the boomers worked a double run


And who could forget Banjo Patersons "Santa in the Bush" go on admit it you have forgotten it haven't you...

It chanced out back at the Christmas time, When the wheat was ripe and tall,
A stranger rode to the farmer's gate--A sturdy man and a small.

"Rin doon, rin doon, my little son Jack, and bid the stranger stay,
And we'll hae a crack for Auld Lang Syne, for the morn is Christmas day."

"Nay noo, nay noo," said the dour guidwife, "But ye should let him be,
He's maybe only a drover chap, From the land o' the Darling Pea."

"Wi a drovers tales, and a drover's thirst tae swiggle the hail nicht through,
Or he's maybe a life assurance carle, to talk ye black and blue."

"Guidwife, he's never a drover chap for their swags are neat and thin,
And he's never a life assurance carl with the brick dust burnt in his skin."

"Guidwife, guidwife, be nae sae dour---for the wheat stands ripe and tall
And we shore a seven pound fleece this year, ewes and weaners and all."

"There is grass to spare and the stock are fat, where they whiles are gaunt and thin,
And we owe a tithe to the travellin' poor, so we maun ask him in."

"Ye can set him a chair at table side and gie him a bite tae eat,
An omelette made of a new-laid egg, or a tasty bit o' meat."

"But the native cats hae taen fowls--they havena left a leg,
And he'll get nae omelette at a' till the emu lays an egg."

"Rin doon, rin doon, my little son Jack, "to whaur the emus bide,
Ye shall find the auld hen on the nest while the auld **** sits beside."

"But speak them fair and speak them saft lest they kick ye a fearful jolt,
Ye can gie them a feed of the half inch nails or a rusty carriage bolt."

So little son Jack ran blithely down with the rusty nails in hand,
Till he came where the emus fluffed and scratched by their nest in the open sand.

And there he has gathered the new-laid egg---'twould feed 3 men or 4,
And the emus came for the half inch nails right up to the settlers door.

"A waste o' food," said the dour guidwife, as she took the egg with a frown,
"But he gets nae meat unless ye rin a paddy-melon down."

"Gang oot, gang oot, my little son Jack---wi your twa-three doggies sma,
Gin ye come nae back wi a paddy-melon, then come nae back at a'."

So little son Jack he raced and he ran and he was bare o' the feet,
And soon he captured a paddy-melon---was gorged with stolen wheat.

"Sit doon, sit doon," my bonny wee man; "to the best that the hoose can do,
An omelette made o' the emu egg, and a paddy melon stew."

"'Tis well, 'tis well", said the bonny wee man, "I have eaten the wide world's meat,
And the food that is given with right good will is the sweetest food to eat."

"But the night draws on to Christmas Day and I must rise and go,
For I have a mighty way to ride to the land of the Esquimaux."

"And it's there I must load my sledges up with the reindeers four-in-hand,
That go to the North, South, East and West---to every Christian land."

"Tae the Esquimaux," said the dour guidwife---"ye suit my husband well,
For when he gets up on his journey horse he's a bit o' a liar himsel'."

Then out with a laugh went the bonny wee man--to his old horse grazing nigh,
And away like a meteor flash they went far off to the Northern sky.

When the children woke on the Christmas morn, they chattered with might and main,
For s sword and a gun had little son Jack, and a braw new doll had Jane,
And a packet o' screws had the twa emus; but the dour guidwife got nane!

 

Basil Faulty wrote:

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Then just to throw some fuel on PeterD's fire what about the race of Jesus, if he really existed and was the Carpenter chappy that was crucified then he was indeed BLECK and of middle eastern appearance, not at all like the caucasian effigys one sees in Churches....

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Race_of_Jesus

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Out on the plains the brolgas are dancing
Lifting their feet like war horses prancing
Up to the sun the woodlarks go winging
Faint in the dawn light echoes their singing
Orana!  Orana!  Orana to Christmas Day

Down where the tree ferns grow by the river
There where the waters sparkle and quiver
Deep in the gullies bell-birds are chiming
Softly and sweetly their lyric notes rhyming
Orana!  Orana!  Orana to Christmas Day

Friar birds sip the nectar of flowers
Currawongs chant in the wattle tree bowers
In the blue ranges lorikeets calling
Carols of bushbirds rising and falling
Orana!  Orana!  Orana to Christmas Day

Basil Faulty wrote:

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Disco Duck wrote:

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For someone who hates Christmas Basil.......you sure are doing a lot of singing. LOL

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On another forum my login is "Singing sacked spy"
Did you consider I just enjoy singing?
Stuff the carols how about some G&S - I have an impressive repetoir....

 

As a true born Welshman, I too am inclined to give voice to the occasional tune or two:

"A wand'ring Minstrel I, a thing of threads and patches....."

The minstrel thing is open to a bit of interpretation, but the "threads and patches" pretty well sums up the state of my wardrobe.

"     All people that on Earth do dwell, sing to the Lord with cheerful voice...."

For those with a religious bent.

I don't sing to anyone in particular; I just sing.