Rudolph's Origins: The Story Of A Red Nose

Ever wonder how a Christmas song gets its start?

The famous Christmas song Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer came from a poem written by an American named Robert May. The advertising company he worked for ask him to write a poem that could be given away to children by the Santa Claus employed by Department Stores at Christmas! Robert May wrote the Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer especially for children. This marketing idea was a big success and nearly 2.5 million Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer poems were given away in the first year of its publication! In 1949 the singer Gene Autry recorded a musical version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer composed by Johnny Marks.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer : Lyrics

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer

had a very shiny nose.

And if you ever saw him,

you would even say it glows.

All of the other reindeer

used to laugh and call him names.

They never let poor Rudolph

join in any reindeer games.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve

Santa came to say:

"Rudolph with your nose so bright,

won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Then all the reindeer

loved him as they shouted out with glee,

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,

you'll go down in history!

Now, here a poem to sing about!


A Seedbed Of Ideas, Unflinchingly Original

Friday night arrives without a suitcase and is handwritten

in ink. It tries its best to drink eight glasses of water a day

and never use its credit card. The suitcase is empty. There's

a dent near the handle. In this scenario streetlights come

on manually. There are sidewalks after sidewalks after sidewalks

with cracks in every one. But Friday doesn't mind.

It has a stack of girlie magazines under its bed at home and

a big jar of Vasoline on the nightstand. It never learned how

to swim but it still use to watched Voyage To the Bottom Of The Sea

on TV weekly. It once gave a elegy for the 1960‚s and

thinks all shepherds have a playful wit reminiscent of Frank

O'Hara. Nothing is left unsucked in its world. It likes lips and

any word that begins with a B. It thinks war should be a side order

on the menu and that any honest-to-goodness Santa

Claus is shaped like a seedless orange. It can't tell a Wednesday

from a Thursday but it has come a long ways in

figuring out the intricate principle of breathing out more than

it takes in.

Poem first published at: http://www.stridemagazine.co.uk/
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Copyright 2007 by Maurice Oliver. All Rights Reserved.