In the meadow we can build a snowman
Then pretend that he is Parson Brown
Who’s Parson Brown?
The answer is no-one. He’s a made-up character. A Parson is a priest, so in the song, the kids are pretending that their snowman is a priest, a figure of authority and responsibility.
What we thought was a song of fun and joy is actually a song of mockery and anarchy. It’s a piss-take. It’s like if we built a snowman and put a big sign on it that says, Luke, CEO, and gave it a sad face. It’s childish, and it’s not kind.
Or so you might think. I did. But listen on.
He'll say: Are you married?
We'll say: No man,
But you can do the job
When you're in town.
When the song was written, a Parson was a travelling priest, doing baptisms, funerals, marriages, in one town before moving to the next. So it’s not a song of rebellion - as you thought - the point isn’t that the snowman is Parson Brown. The point is, we’re pretending to be. married, and the Snowman, as Parson. as a key figure in our matrimonial play.
So! - - a song of play, joy, and celebration after all. That’s what I thought. But. The lyrics of the song were written in 1934 from the room of a New York sanitarium. The writer, Richard B. Smith, was quarantined in that room. Effectively imprisoned suffering from, and being treated for tuberculosis. You can only imagine his pain and loneliness. And as he gazed from the window - we can only imagine it had frost round the edges - as he gazed over snow-covered Central Park, he saw children playing and he loathed them.
Later on, we'll conspire,
As we dream by the fire
To face unafraid,
The plans that we've made,
Walking in a winter wonderland.
The children might be unafraid, but Richard… And that’s why, from now on you might never forget the song’s subtext of horror.
Still, I don’t want to piss on your Christmas.
In my house, as we get closer to December, every year I tell my kids that Christmas is cancelled. Then they groan, and tell me that I say that every year. Why do I do it? It’s something my dad used to say - same results - in our house when I was growing up.
So I googled “are shit jokes inherited.” One of the top listings was useful, about diarrhoea being inherited. It runs in your jeans.
Also useful was some research - for those I haven't told before, you can journal this sort of thing as group meetings - research, conducted by the Economic Education Foundation, about being cool - and having a good sense of humour. Probably not genetic but as behaviours, they are definitely inherited, like any evolutionary advantage. You might not agree but based on my own personal experience, being funny and cool can make you highly attractive.
I wanted to be sure so I sent my wife a WhatsApp message. No context, I sent her a message, it said
Quick question. On a scale of zero to nine, where
nine is “The greatest possible importance,” how
important was my funniness and coolness in your
decision to reproduce with me?
She replied. “8.”
Why couldn’t she just say 9?
Eight means that there is something else - but it’s barely important at all. Like - room for error.
But anyway the Economic Education Foundation. Just as we see in the animal kingdom, where one leader of the pack gives way to the next, it’s vital that the alpha cedes to the next generation. By repeating the same bad jokes to my children as my dad repeated to me, I wilfully permit my children to be cooler and funnier than me, the gift of evolutionary success.
Perhaps that’s what Richard B. Smith was thinking, as he sat, contemplating life, and death, when he wrote
Gone away is the bluebird,
Here to stay is a new bird
He sings a love song,
As we go along,
Walking in a winter wonderland.
Have a good weekend.