Club Chrissie Carols


Good King Malthouslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen,
He told Sticks he’d win the flag
Be lucky to break even.


Brightly shone the Judd that night,
Though the rucks were cruel,
When poor Litza came in sight,
Forced to play the foo-oo-l.


Son of Tiger; Saintly Prince,
Loved by Dog and Eagle,
Magpie reign was firm but tender,
Visy pays more legal.


Hither, JB, stand by me.
If thou know it telling:
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Used to be our captain,
Peasant down Glenferrie way
Think his name was Ra-a-tten.



God rest ye merry Cattermen,
No finals still to play;
Alas our stars need Zimmer frames
To Harms and Dips dismay;

But still each year we beat the Hawks,
So Cats can have their day;

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy!


From Bobby our heavenly Father
A blessed Menzel came;
Get on your knees with Phantom
And pray he’s still not lame;

Our teams as old as Jesus
With Jimmy, Joels and James;

Our flags give us comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
Memories of comfort and joy.



Away in St Seaford no flag on the bed
The little Lord Nick laid down his sweet head;
The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay
He looks like a comet but he burns out in play


The faithful are lowing the Sainter awakes
For year after year his team gets no breaks;
I love you Lord Yabby; look down from the sky
Can’t I get a flag before it’s my turn to die.



The first AFL, Almanackers did say,
The Bush Leagues are all starving, let’s halve Andy’s pay;
In fields where they play a counting their goals,
Our teams on the skids, and the jumpers got holes;


Thank God rugby’s been suckered to buy Israel.


They looked up and saw a star
Shining in the West beyond them far;
And to the earth he gave great light
And so NicNait continued by day and by night;


Game looks like rugby but we’ve ratings to sell.





  1. And here I was thinking I was forced to play the voice of reason… thanks.

    Merry Christmas

  2. John Butler says

    Ah PB… What does your shrink say about that Judd fixation? Or has he given up?

    Litza, fear not. No one is about to confuse you with the voice of reason. The Voice of Reason is obviously Mark Doyle (aka…)

    I fear Little Lord Nick may have a few more tears still to shed.

    A Merry Christmas to all over in the Deep West.

  3. Peter Schumacher says

    My contribution to this very worthwhile debate, improvements on this take most welcome

    Silent Swans

    Silent Swans, ignoble Swans
    No dickhead rule,
    Who do they fool?
    Get round the Tippet give that one a try
    Hope when he plays the club’s spirit won’t die
    Voss tried the same with Fevo-lah,
    The Lions just did their doh.

Leave a Comment