Saturday, December 24, 2005
A Walk in the Hark
At this time of year everyone has their own special traditions, and here at Talent in a Previous Life we're no exception, even if our own tradition owes less to sentimentality and more to dogged obsession. So join us once again as we turn on the Christmas lights, sip a warming glass of mulled wine, before blasphemously rewriting a traditional Christmas song to cast Nicola Roberts in the lead role. This year, Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Feel free to join in.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to our favourite Ginge,
Girls on stage and, mercy, wild,
And those gold hotpants? Nicely styled!"
Joyful, all ye nations rise,
'Gainst the problem of hair dyes;
A proclamation mighty fine,
"Nicola's got a solo line!"
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to our favourite Ginge!"
Nic, by highest heaven adored;
Nic, who's always looking bored;
Late in song behold her sing,
She so clearly doesn't ming.
Pale in flesh, a beauty, she;
She's pretty much a deity,
Pleased with us in flesh to dwell,
Nicola, you're mighty swell.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to our favourite Ginge!"
Hail the Runcorn Born Princess!
Hail the Girl of Gorgeousness!
Light and life in all she sings,
When she's not stuck in the wings.
Sulky, sure, but my, oh my,
Born so that all men may sigh,
Born to be our favourite goil, (It's a mispronunciation of girl, work with us here)
Born to outshine Nadine Coyle.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to our favourite Ginge!"
As always, quite. And that's it from us for 2005. Thanks to everyone who's sent us e-mails, said nice things about us, linked to us, or just simply read and enjoyed the site. We'll be back in the new year with our predictions for the next 12 months, plus more 10 Things, more Top of the Pops, our countdown of the 100 Actual Worst Songs... Ever (And if you've not nominated your 'favourite' yet, then there's still time), plus all sorts of stuff that's so fantastic we haven't even thought of it yet (i.e. more of the same). Until then, have a very merry Christmas and we'll see you in 2006.
music nicola roberts
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to our favourite Ginge,
Girls on stage and, mercy, wild,
And those gold hotpants? Nicely styled!"
Joyful, all ye nations rise,
'Gainst the problem of hair dyes;
A proclamation mighty fine,
"Nicola's got a solo line!"
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to our favourite Ginge!"
Nic, by highest heaven adored;
Nic, who's always looking bored;
Late in song behold her sing,
She so clearly doesn't ming.
Pale in flesh, a beauty, she;
She's pretty much a deity,
Pleased with us in flesh to dwell,
Nicola, you're mighty swell.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to our favourite Ginge!"
Hail the Runcorn Born Princess!
Hail the Girl of Gorgeousness!
Light and life in all she sings,
When she's not stuck in the wings.
Sulky, sure, but my, oh my,
Born so that all men may sigh,
Born to be our favourite goil, (It's a mispronunciation of girl, work with us here)
Born to outshine Nadine Coyle.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to our favourite Ginge!"
As always, quite. And that's it from us for 2005. Thanks to everyone who's sent us e-mails, said nice things about us, linked to us, or just simply read and enjoyed the site. We'll be back in the new year with our predictions for the next 12 months, plus more 10 Things, more Top of the Pops, our countdown of the 100 Actual Worst Songs... Ever (And if you've not nominated your 'favourite' yet, then there's still time), plus all sorts of stuff that's so fantastic we haven't even thought of it yet (i.e. more of the same). Until then, have a very merry Christmas and we'll see you in 2006.
music nicola roberts
