Don't Forget the Lyrics

It's amazing to me that there are so many tv shows now about singing. I've not watched more than 15 seconds of any particular program--just long enough while flipping channels. These shows do not appeal to me at all, but they suggest that most of American has a problem similar to mine: they just can't get the lyrics straight.
Since we had the baby we've done a heck of a lot more singing than we used to. And we've discovered that we don't know all the words to any songs. (Except for the Aggie War Hymn and I begged my DH to please stop singing it after it was in my head for three weeks straight.)
And there are the ridiculously funny wrong-word-moments we've discovered along the way.
Take, for example, the classic Dolly Parton-Kenny Rogers duet "Islands in the Stream" from back in the '80s. In my mind, the chorus has always been:
"Highlands in the street."
Why?
Well, silly, "Highlands" was the name of the elementary school I was attending when the song was popular and, duh, where else would it be located but on a street.
My DH's lyric lapse is even funnier.
Anyone remember the Reba McIntyre song "The Night When the Lights Went Out in Georgia"? One line goes: "The judge in town's got blood stains on his hands."
Nope. He's got mustangs on his hat according to my DH. He thought it was some sort of nod to Civil War era hats.
Ahem. . .
Which leads me to our latest song switcheroo. . .
I was tinkering on the computer the other night while my DH was singing the boy to sleep to a medley of Christmas carols.
You know, Rudolph, Have Yourself a Merry Little, Little Drummer Boy, etc.
I knew we needed to print out some lyrics when Frosty the Snowman learned to sing and play guitar and moved to LA.
Is there any hope for our kid?
Happy Merry, everyone!