A narrative rendition of this song called mistletoe.  With added early-pubescent angst.

I have noticed that it is getting close to Christmas, the time of year that I, because of my young age, still consider to be the most beautiful and exciting time of year.  As I walk down the street, I see the Christmas lights decorating the surrounding shops and houses.  The lights make me feel so cheerful it feels as if the lights themselves are not emitting light, but warm glows of cheer and joyfulness.  Usually, I would go play in the snow with the boys.  But somehow, this year, like my cracking voice, something has changed.  I’m feeling that I should find me some mistletoe.

It’s not like I want to miss out on the Christmas holiday by being distracted by these new, strange feelings I’m having.  But for some reason, I just can’t stop staring at this girl’s face.   My biology teacher said that I’d someday have feelings like this, but I’m too young – I should be making snowmen with my friends.  But instead, I’m going to find the most socially acceptable way to get a girl to kiss me. I’m going to find some mistletoe.

I can’t wait to kiss a girl under the mistletoe.  I wonder what it’s like.

It’s getting rather cold outside.  I assume that it’s because of the copious amounts of snow.  Everybody is congregating around the fire and roasting chestnuts, as per cultural tradition.  I should probably go and join my parents but due to these strange new changes, I feel I’d rather ditch my folks and snog you under some mistletoe.

I wonder if Santa will take me off his “nice” list for thinking these things, because I’ve just been reminded by a passer-by that he’s coming on his reindeer tonight. I should be making a list for Santa, asking him for a Ben 10 watch.  But I think I’d rather some mistletoe to catch a chick.  Then I know she’ll kiss me.

Hey you, I want you to come over here.  Get your pretty bottom over here and stand with me under the mistletoe.

If I called you “shawty”, like a gangster, would it change your mind?  Because I really want to get kissed under the mistletoe so I can tell all my friends in the locker room in Gym class tomorrow.

Hey, I know!  I’ll make a religious reference to make myself appear more intelligent and sensitive, and maybe then you’ll kiss me. No?

Or maybe I’ll just be a sleaze.  I’ve heard it works.  Apparently all the bad guys get the ladies.  Woman, you don’t need to buy me anything – your body will do.  Kiss me under the mistletoe to make my Christmas merry.

As I said earlier, I think Christmas is beautiful and exciting.  The lights seem to be making everything even more cheerful.  I know I should be having snowball fights with Jimmy from the Pokemon fan club, but jeeze woman – I just want to get snogged under the mistletoe.

I don’t want to miss out on all the wonderful presents my Mummy and Daddy have bought me for Christmas, but I just want to eat your face.  Screw playing Warlocks and Warlords in the snow, I want you to under the mistletoe.

I want you to kiss me.  Under the mistletoe, if you’d prefer.

Come on, woman, if you can’t make me a decent sandwhich, at least kiss me under the mistletoe.

KISS ME WOMAN!  DO IT NOW!

Don’t you love me?  If you did – you would kiss me.  Under this mistletoe that I’m holding in my left hand over our heads.

Come on, kiss me. Pretty please?  Don’t you love meeeeeeee?

Kiss me.  Under the mistletoe.