Those Christmas carol lyrics seem incongruous as Cumbria submerges. Biblical floods descend the streets and decimate ancient copses and tourist trails. Glowering Coniston softened into an inland sea.
Fairy lights twinkling and neon Santas still glowing, rising from a sodden lakeland, celebrated for its gentle greenscape. Not now. Mud, boulders, ruined stoves and abandoned sofas line the streets. Bilge pumps and de-humidifiers provide the soundtrack, not carols, and local folk can recite the marauding toll of every storm.
No frost or hard weather is forecast, so they fill more sandbags.