NEWTON'S LAW: NOTHING RHYMES WITH WASSAIL BUT WHO'S TO BLAME FOR THAT?

In my family's division of responsibility, I am the morning taxi driver; I handle the going-to-school pool. The work's okay. At least I get to see my kids on a regular basis.

As a running joke, I keep my children in line with the threat of singing. Some offer music as a gift. My voice is the equivalent of handing someone a subpoena. It brings that much joy.

When the kids are being particularly rowdy during the ride, I'll offer my treatment of various show tunes. Sometimes I'll warn them in advance what the theme of the day is. "Today, kids," I'll announce, "Rodgers and Hammerstein."

"Ducks and chicks and pigs better scurry, when I take you out in my surrey ..."

Like good Pavlovian subjects, they become quite controllable, even docile, with just a warning now.

"Today, kids, Sinead O'Connor."

They don't want to risk it, me possibly breaking into song when their friends get in the van. It's an ugly abuse, but at least it's an ugly family abuse.

Christmas is a brutal time for my kids. Their holiday humor is dampened by the notion I might be moved by the spirit of the season and sing without provocation.

I can't help it. Christmas songs are stubbornly infectious. Like banjo music, Yuletide tunes are mostly alike and normally upbeat. If they played Christmas songs on a banjo, just think how good you'd feel.

There are no dirges in Christmas camouflage, though some contrive to suck tears right out of you. A friend who has a son in military service overseas says she breaks up every time "I'll Be Home for Christmas" plays from a store's Muzak speaker.

The songs don't affect me in quite that way. "White Christmas," for instance, is meant to create a nostalgic mood, with its "tree tops glistening" and "sleigh bells in the snow," but reminds me only of Danny Kaye's understated acting technique (learned no doubt from Jerry Lewis).

Carols make an interesting study. They are mostly rural in mood; "over the river and through the woods" must seem a little foreign to kids in Brooklyn whose grandparents live in Manhattan. And there is very little sleigh activity in Los Angeles.

Few carols win awards for their lyrics. If a songwriter arrives at a weak part in a verse, he can throw in a "fa la la la la" and get away with it. And if he can't find a rhyme for "wassail," who's going to blame him?

Christmas tunes provide songwriters with their only chance to exalt King Wenceslas.

Whenever a choral concert has a sing-along during the Christmas season, the dirtiest trick that can be played is the inclusion of second and third verses. Few people know beyond the first verse of any Christmas song.

So God imparts to human hearts/The blessings of His heav'n./No ear may hear His coming, ...

That's from the third verse of "O Little Town of Bethlehem," one of my favorites. I had to look it up.

Other songs seem familiar but fool you when the singing starts. The tenth word of "O Christmas Tree" is "verdant." It means green and fresh. I had to look it up.

Yule spirit even supplies people with enough stamina for that carol from Hell, "The Twelve Days of Christmas." All those banal lords a'leaping and geese a'laying create a tedium unmatched since the band Steppenwolf launched a reunion tour.

Still, Christmas songs are something more than things you blow dust off to use once a year. They are part of the holiday's enchantment, an expression of joy. Like "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," everyone can sing a carol without being embarrassed.

I like to sing them. Christmas only comes once a year. I only hope my kids understand.