You know how it goes. You're in a department store in mid-December, juggling three shopping bags and a venti latte, when those familiar, twinkling piano notes start floating through the speakers. Suddenly, you're hum-singing about "raindrops on roses" and "whiskers on kittens." It feels cozy. It feels like Christmas.
But here’s the weird thing: these are a few of my favorite things song lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.
Seriously. Go back and look at the script of The Sound of Music. There isn't a single mention of Jesus, Santa, or even a holiday party. Yet, this show tune has somehow muscled its way into the holiday canon alongside "Silent Night" and "Jingle Bells." It’s a fascinating bit of cultural gaslighting that’s been going on for over sixty years.
The Thunderstorm and the Abbey: Where the Song Actually Lives
Most of us picture Julie Andrews in that blue-and-white dress, huddled with a pack of terrified children in a bedroom while lightning crashes outside. That’s the movie version. It’s iconic. It’s the reason we associate the song with comfort during a crisis.
However, if you saw the original 1959 Broadway production, you’d be confused. In the stage musical, Maria doesn't sing it to the kids. She sings it in an office.
She’s at the Abbey, talking to the Mother Abbess. Maria is nervous about leaving the convent to become a governess for seven children she’s never met. The Mother Abbess—who is basically the world's coolest boss—sings it with her to help her find some inner peace. It’s less about a literal thunderstorm and more about the internal storm of "Am I good enough for this job?"
When the movie came out in 1965, the director decided to swap things around. They moved "The Lonely Goatherd" (the yodeling puppet song) to the party scene and put "My Favorite Things" in the bedroom during the storm. This single edit changed the song's DNA. It turned it from a quiet moment of mentorship into a high-energy anthem for overcoming fear.
📖 Related: The A Wrinkle in Time Cast: Why This Massive Star Power Didn't Save the Movie
Breaking Down the Lyrics: From Strudel to Sadness
Oscar Hammerstein II was a genius at writing lyrics that felt simple but hit like a ton of bricks. The structure of these are a few of my favorite things song lyrics is basically a laundry list of sensory details.
- Raindrops on roses
- Whiskers on kittens
- Bright copper kettles
- Warm woolen mittens
It’s tactile. You can feel the wool; you can smell the apple strudel. But the song isn't actually "happy." If you listen to the melody—written by Richard Rodgers—it’s actually quite dark. It’s written in a minor key. That’s why it sounds a bit haunting.
The lyrics only make sense when you hit the bridge.
"When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad..."
The song is a coping mechanism. It’s about the psychological trick of "reframing." You aren't ignoring the "dog bite"—the pain of the world—you’re just choosing to focus on the "cream-colored ponies" so you don't lose your mind. It’s a survival song disguised as a nursery rhyme.
The Christmas Connection (Or, How We Got Fooled)
So, if it’s a song about anxiety and Austrian strudel, how did it end up on every "Merry Christmas" playlist on Spotify?
👉 See also: Cuba Gooding Jr OJ: Why the Performance Everyone Hated Was Actually Genius
It started with Julie Andrews, but not in the way you think. In 1961—four years before the movie—Julie Andrews performed the song on The Garry Moore Show for a holiday special. People saw her, saw the wintery imagery in the lyrics (mittens, snowflakes, silver-white winters), and their brains just made the leap.
Then came the covers.
In 1964, Jack Jones put it on a Christmas album. Why? Probably because the lyrics mention "brown paper packages tied up with strings." To a record executive, that sounded like Christmas presents. They added some sleigh bells to the backing track, and boom—it was a holiday hit.
By the time Diana Ross and The Supremes recorded their version for Merry Christmas in 1965, the deal was sealed. We had collectively decided that "silver-white winters" meant Christmas Eve, even though the song is technically set in the middle of a summer thunderstorm.
The Coltrane Transformation
You can't talk about these lyrics without talking about John Coltrane. In 1960, the jazz legend took this "corny" Broadway tune and turned it into a 14-minute spiritual journey.
Coltrane saw something in the repetitive, circular nature of the melody. He used it as a "modal" playground. He’d play the famous melody for a few seconds, then disappear into a hypnotic, trance-like saxophone solo that felt more like a religious experience than a show tune.
His version is arguably more famous in the music world than the original. It proved that a song about "sleigh bells" could have enough depth to support the most complex jazz improvisation in history. It took the song out of the nursery and into the smoky late-night clubs of New York.
✨ Don't miss: Greatest Rock and Roll Singers of All Time: Why the Legends Still Own the Mic
Why We Still Sing It
Honestly, I think we love this song because it’s honest. Most "happy" songs are annoying because they feel fake. But this one admits that life is hard. It admits that sometimes the dog bites and the bee stings.
It doesn't tell you to "just be happy." It tells you to remember something good when the world feels heavy. Whether that’s a "wild goose that flies with the moon on its wing" or just a really good cup of coffee, the message stays the same.
We keep it on the Christmas playlists because the holidays are stressful. We’re all a little bit like Maria in that bedroom—scared of the "thunder" of family drama, travel delays, and the cost of all those "brown paper packages." We need to remind ourselves of our favorite things just to get through the month.
Real-World Takeaways
If you're looking to dive deeper into the history of this track, here is what you should do:
- Listen to the 1959 Original Cast Recording: Hear Mary Martin and Patricia Neway sing it. It's faster, more operatic, and lacks the "Disney-fied" polish of the movie.
- Compare the Keys: Notice how the song shifts from E minor (the sad/scary parts) to G major (the happy list). It’s a masterclass in musical storytelling.
- Watch the "Coltrane" Live at Newport: If you want to see how a simple song can be dismantled and rebuilt into something transcendent, this is the gold standard.
- Check the Timeline: Remember that Oscar Hammerstein II died shortly after the musical premiered. He never saw the song become a global phenomenon or a Christmas staple. It was one of the last great things he ever wrote.
Next time you hear those lyrics, don't just think about Santa. Think about the fact that you're listening to a song about psychological resilience that was written for a musical about escaping Nazis, which then got hijacked by the jazz world and eventually sold back to us as a holiday jingle. It’s one of the weirdest success stories in music history.
To truly appreciate the nuance, try listening to the original Broadway version immediately followed by John Coltrane's 1961 recording. The contrast will completely change how you hear those "raindrops on roses."