Have yourself a merry little christmas original lyrics

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

It may be your last

Next year we may all be living in the past

How’s that for an upbeat thought?

However you commemorate the waning of the year, and no matter what you call it, you’ve probably heard and hummed along with the classic tune “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

What you may not have heard are the original, gloomy lyrics that begin with the lines at the top of this column.

In the familiar version, the song is a pep talk. It’s your therapist, your life coach, your mom, all those people who are forever telling you to look on the bright side. By my calculations, 86 percent of American adults can sing the opening:

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

From now on, our troubles will be out of sight

Those words are so heartwarming and resolutely wishful, aren’t they?

The original, on the other hand, is like cold water splashed on your face on a zero-degree morning. It’s about as merry as the apocalypse.

Ho ho ho. This Christmas could be your last. Cheers!

I stumbled on the earlier lyrics to “Have Yourself” not long ago, and while I wouldn’t want them to permanently replace the cheerier version, they’re worth some reflection.

The song was written by Hugh Martin for the 1944 movie “Meet Me in St. Louis.” The movie’s star, Judy Garland, found the lyrics depressing and pleaded with Martin to change them, which he did, reluctantly, though later he conceded that the original was “hysterically lugubrious.”

In his original, he included the lines:

Faithful friends who were dear to us

Will be near to us no more

That’s about as merry as an empty stocking on Christmas morning.

To appease Garland and others involved in the movie, Martin recast the sentiment:

Faithful friends who were dear to us

Will be near to us once more

The difference between “no more” and “once more” shows the power of a single word to change everything. Loss turns to hope.

A few years later, Frank Sinatra insisted that Martin brighten up even the sunnier Judy Garland version, which contained these lines:

Someday soon we all will be together

If the fates allow

Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow

As Martin recalled later, Sinatra objected to the “muddle through” line.

“The name of my album is ‘A Jolly Christmas’,” Sinatra purportedly said. “Do you think you could jolly up that line for me?”

In the jollier Sinatra version, which became the standard, the “muddled” line was replaced with “Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.” It’s a stilted line, out of character with the conversational tone of the song, but it can’t be called depressing.

Even the merriest version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” however, comes with a strain of melancholy.

In the world of Martin’s song, the holidays are more than roasted chestnuts, jingle bells and cute flying reindeer. It’s a world full of troubles, even if those troubles can be tucked away.

In “Merry Little Christmas,” nobody’s rockin’ around the Christmas tree. In this song, friends are separated and the years are passing. Time takes its toll.

The song doesn’t promise that your heart will be light. It instructs you to let it be.

In that way, the song fits one of my beliefs about the season: Happy holidays are something you have to make for yourself.

Merriment isn’t handed to you. To the extent that you can, you have to choose it.

Many people seem torn at the holidays — a bland word that encompasses our cultural complexities — between feeling that this really is a special, exciting season and fearing that it will fall short of expectation, their own or the culture’s. Even people who enjoy the bustle can resent the busyness and prescribed jollity.

“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” in all its versions, acknowledges that the season isn’t unalloyed joy. That’s what makes it a great song, right up to its final word, which is “now.”

Have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

Because, honestly? Now won’t last forever. You can call that hysterically lugubrious or call it reality.

Whatever it's called, we may as well let our hearts be light and muddle on.

Twitter @MarySchmich

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