At some point in 1943, a wad of probably balled-up paper hits the side of a trash can in an office. Maybe it’s an office in Philadelphia. Perhaps it’s on 57th Street in Manhattan. Either way, there are about sixteen bars of a new song on the piece of paper. The melody and the lyrics are the product of a couple of days spent working on a new musical, which will be Meet Me in St. Louis, but there’s no bridge to be found. The piece doesn’t work. It’s destined for the incinerator.
The songwriter switches on the radio. War news, casualty counts, the rolling grind of a world trying to kill itself. On the plus side, the Soviets are crushing German tanks in Kursk. From the next room, footsteps. Ralph Blane walks into the office and tips the can. He plucks Hugh Martin’s broken effort from inside the bin. “That’s too good to throw away,” he says.
“Doesn’t work,” Martin replies.
“Well,” says his colleague. “I have a funny feeling about this little tune.”
And that’s the story of how “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” almost never existed, and then did. Or it’s some of the story. A start.
A little while later, Martin and Blane are listening to Judy Garland tell them the song doesn’t work. It’s too sad, she says. Even though it’s a sad scene in the musical. Even though the story is that of being uprooted, taken away from home and friends and loved ones in St. Louis and relocated to New York.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas It may be your last Next year, we may all be living in the past Have yourself a merry little Christmas Pop that champagne cork Next year, we may all be living in New York No good times like the olden days Happy golden days of yore Faithful friends who were dear to us Will be near to us no more
Garland set her cup of tea to one side. She, too, had a funny feeling about the little tune. “If I sing that,” she said to Martin and Blane, “little Margaret O’Brien will cry, and they’ll think I’m a monster.”
And so the pair went back to their writing desks. The musical debuted, and the song was released as a Christmas single, becoming a big hit in 1944, with Garland singing the happier lyric. “It may be your last” became “Let your heart be light,” and “Next year we may all be living in the past” became “Next year all our troubles will be out of sight.” The champagne cork and the doomy New York bit got replaced by something that could survive Garland’s scrutiny: “Make the yuletide gay,” and “Next year all our troubles will be miles away.” And so it went.
Frank Sinatra enters the story a few years later, and he likes Martin’s original, the more melancholy vision. He has Alex Stordahl arrange the piece, putting the lyrics back the way they were in the first incarnation and including the original kicker, a stiffer shot of ambiguity, which is right up Frank’s alley.
Someday soon, we all will be together If the fates allow Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow So have yourself a merry little Christmas now
From there, “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” joined the holiday canon. Sinatra recorded it again, but with his own happier words about shining stars on the highest bow replacing the “muddle through” ending; this is the version on A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra, released in 1957. Dinah Shore. Doris Day. Glen Campbell. Bette Midler. Linda Ronstadt. The list of singers who took on the song grew and grew.
From World War II to today, “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” is a hell of a song. It does everything right. It sounds lovely, a madrigal melody that might as well be a thousand years old, but with a lyric that is not only slyly topical but smart enough to avoid outright, on-the-nose topicality. Because of its lack of specificity, coupled with its attention to small details, the collaboration in 1943 has become an eternal tune for troubled times.
Below, please find a new version of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” Your toiling correspondent—whose bin is often full of things that don’t want to work—recorded it with the help of the celestial Karaugh Brown, near and dear to us and a heck of a singer.
Please accept our collaboration, our contribution. “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” is precisely the kind of song All Your Days understands. Whether you celebrate the holiday or pursue other year-end ceremonies, the sentiment of this secular piece is universal. Take away all the trappings of the world’s most fucked-up capitalist exercise/indoctrination for families—well, it’s in at least the top three—and you have a lyric full of worries for a worried mind. A character stands on a precipice. The future is unknown. Worse, the future is not entirely unwritten.
Still, there’s something beautiful about the song. It transcends. As more than one listener has noted, there’s a funny feeling that comes with it. May you enjoy our take, our track (streaming everywhere you listen to music) and video (right here in this post), and please feel welcome to mull the lyrical tweaks you discover; we’re all ears down in the comments. May we all have a peaceful close to a terrible, bad, no good 2025.
Except for you all, that is. You’ve been amazing. Thank you for lifting up this little newsletter. Onwards. Better days will come.
