Tomorrow, for the 16th time, I shall be performing at the British Embassy in Oslo for the Anglo-Norse Society's Christmas party. This occasion is always something I look forward to, and over the years I have be fortunate enough to perform all sorts of things from short stories, sketches, songs, even pantomine, along with skilled musicians, singers and other performers from every area of show business. My role has usually been that of a master-of-ceremonies, a narrator to the events and general deliverer of entertainment. By far the most enjoyable thing though, is the chance to perform and share poetry about Christmas. It has become a Christmas tradition in itself, and my only concern is that it becomes harder and harder each year to find something that hasn't been done before. But earlier this year, to my joy, I came across a wonderful poem by William Wordsworth –a poet I have always admired, and this will be shared with the audience as part of my performance, along with pieces by George Wither, Thackeray, Mary Howitt and the one line of Shakespeare tat specifically deals with Christmas! The musical part of the evening will be provided by a Norwegian vocal group called "Uhørt". In the meantime, here's the Wordsworth poem.
Minstrels by William Wordsworth
The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
Nor check, the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.
And who but listened?—till was paid
Respect to every inmate’s claim,
The greeting given, the music played
In honour of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And “Merry Christmas” wished to all.
