Toby Manhire: The 2016 Christmas songbook

The 2016 Christmas songbook as written by Toby Manhire. Photo / 123rf

There goes 2016, a bad year consisting mostly of people talking about it being a bad year. With Christmas around the corner there's no psychic balm like a singalong: light a candle, find a friend, and gather around the piano.

Come All Key Faithful

O Come All Key Faithful,
Shell-shocked and despondent,
O come ye, post-John-Key, to Bill, yes, to him.
Come and behold him, born the King of Dipton;
So glum -- we did adore Key,
John shower'd us in victory,
From Parnell to Karori,
Second time round.
O Sing, backbench angels,
Sing in expectation,
O sing, we're behind you with one eye on the polls.
Crash and we'll have to call Paula or Judith;
O come, lead us to glory,
But please no more poetry,
Or you'll be transitory,
Second time round.

Fanta Paws is Coming to Town

You better watch out, you better not fright,
You better be signed up to the alt-right,
Fanta Paws is coming to town.
He's building a wall, he's checking it twice,
And Mexicans will pay the bigly price,
Fanta Paws is coming to clown.
He tweets you when you're sleeping, he glows when you're awake,
Unpresidented, great again, though perhaps that news is fake.
You better watch out! You frankly should cry,
And move if you can down to these quaky isles,
Cause Fanta Paws is coming to town.
And by the way, believe me, no one loves you more than Fantz!
But he soon will have the nuclear codes in those pussy-grabbing hands.
So! You better steer clear of the South China Sea,
You better not bad-mouth Vladimir P,
Fanta Paws is coming, Fanta Paws is coming, Fanta Paws is coming to town

Once in Loyal Davids' Party

Once in Loyal Davids' Party
There were three, but now just one
Cunliffe's off to consultancy
Shearer's gone to South Sudan
David Parker, he's still here
Shuffled to foreign affairs
Key left, too, though he's no David
His name was, oh, we forget
Anyhow, Key's chips are traded
Leaving Andrew a fair bet
From his teat the flock could sup
Or like that rug, he'll cock it up.

Plead the World (Do they know it's Brexit time?)

It's Brexit time, there's no need to be afraid
At Brexit time, we look inward and we feel betrayed
And in our little Britain, we can stand up for ourselves
Raise a finger to the world at Brexit time.
But say a prayer, to pray for security
At Brexit time, it's hard to fathom what we've done
The rest of Europe is quite pissed off
And they're cutting ties with us
When it comes to common markets, we're going underneath the bus
And the Brexit agitators, such as Boris and Farage,
Turned out to be bloviators, did no planning, by and large
Well tonight, thank God, there's still the Commonwealth.
Plead the world
Let them know it's Brexit time and
Plead the world
Pray that Scotland won't cut ties and
Plead the world (etc)

Good Kingmaker Winston

Good King Winston he looked out, on the feast of Steven,
Joyce and English hammered out a bauble agreement,
Brightly shone the grin that night, down at the Green Parrot,
Winston said the centre-right must produce a ca-a-arrot.
"Bloody hell mate, dost thou jest?" Steven said to Winston.
"No shit sunshine," Winston stressed. "Stick it up your Dipton."
Forsooth thus the wine did flow -- Claret, reddish-brown,
Even for a month or so, Win must wear the crow-ow-own.

Dreaming of a Red-Green Christmas

We're dreaming of a Red-Green Christmas
With every poll that we assess
On the cusp of breakthrough, with our flash MOU
One strong voice on homes and ethnic chefs.

Hark the NZ Herald Angels Sing

Hark the Herald angels sing,
Glory to Fairfax merging.
ComCom don't let us destruct!
Let us wed, or else we're [ENDS]

Fairytale of New York

I was handsome, sitting pretty
Queen of UN city
Ban Ki-moon finished playing
They howled out for Clark
New Zealand was swinging,
Though East Europe was whingeing
I posted a Snapchat
Then tweeted all night
But the boys of the UNSC choir
Made Gutteres the sec-gen
Hashtag: he's a bloke
From Portugal.

Away in a Ranger

Away in a Ford Ranger
Can't afford a bed
Scarred the nation's conscience
Slept in cars instead.

Bling John Merrily on Hawaii (At the End of Christmas Day)

Ding dong, went out on a high,
In Maui, sun is shining,
Ping pong, golf and Muay Thai,
Could not be more relaxing.
Bro-o-o-o-o-o-oh-o-o-o-o-o-oh-o-o-o-o-o-onagh! Any idea where Max is?
So long, jeez, I had a ball,
The happy, much-loved PM,
Barack will not take my call,
And neither will More FM.
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-So-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, there it is! By God I miss the baannter.
Let us go then, you and I,
In half-deserted new lives,
Got my family and My Sky,
Still weep thoughts of Beehives
Bro-o-o-o-o-o-oh-o-o-o-o-o-oh-o-o-o-o-o-onagh! I'm feeling faintly nauseous.
Bro-o-o-o-o-o-oh-o-o-o-o-o-oh-o-o-o-o-o-onagh! Too late to reverse this?

Last Christmas, as sung by Kyle Lockwood

Last Christmas, I gave you my art,
But the very next day, you threw it away.
This year, to save me from tears,
I'm sticking with Lazar Kiwi.

For a chance to win the full songbook, including the bonus extras Gareth the Red-Mo'ed Reindeer, Andrew Little Drummer Boy, Fiscal Bills, America's Boy Child President Was Born on Inauguration Day, the All Black anthem In the Dunny Kissing Santa Claus and the X-rated sex-toy ditty Joyce to the World, make a donation immediately to the Auckland City Mission at aucklandcity mission.org.nz.