The Christmas before my sixteenth birthday at Arbofriend, and being herded into the rafters to sing Good King Wenceslas for the entertainment of the senior division. I am not at all bitter about my memories, however:

Come, Christmas day rejoicing
We're in the rafters voicing
The words that children love to hear
While down below they laugh then jeer
And memory says that no one cared
No one cared at all.