Here they are, the three most feared words at Christmas:

Carolers are coming!

It’s enough to send you dashing around the house to douse the lights and pretend you’re not at home.

Some folks fear clowns. Others cringe at carolers.

I had one of these encounters on Tuesday night. I was sitting at my computer, catching up on emails before heading to bed, when I suddenly heard “Oh Come All Ye Faithful.”

Normally I love that Christmas carol, but at that moment on that night I was in my rattiest pjs, I’d washed my face and was slathered in anti-aging face cream. I was not looking my best.

I held my breath, praying the happy warblers would sashay past my house. They did.

Whew.

It’s not that these seasonal singers do scary things – other than ring your doorbell and launch into song the second you appear. But there’s that dopey feeling you get when you open the door and find an a cappella gang grinning maniacally at you.

OK, I admit it. I’ve gone Christmas caroling. What fun! Nothing like tossing on a jacket and heading out into a December night to spread the joy of the season.

Carolers have the easy part. They smile. They sing. They move on.

They have the element of surprise on their side, too.

But what about the unsuspecting schlumps inside?

What do they do? Wave? Join in the singing? Sway to the music? Do they open the door? Or maintain a storm-door buffer? Do they invite the carolers in? Offer them refreshments?

I trace my discomfort to a run-in with a militant mob of merrymakers almost 10 years ago.

As I recall, the singing strangers launched into “Joy to the World” just as I opened my door. My hair was a mess and I was wearing well, my indoor attire. I figured they’d sing a song and shove off.

So, when they came to the final “and wonders of his love” I smiled and clapped.

Instead of sending them next door, it sent them into a spirited rendition of “Frosty the Snowman.”

I foolishly assumed the last “Thumpety thump thump, thumpety thump thump, look at Frosty go” was a sign that they were finished.

Hah. It’s been a long time, but I remember “Winter Wonderland,” which was followed by the tedious “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

“Well, I’m in the Christmas spirit now!” I exclaimed, looking at my watch. “Thanks so much for stopping by!”

But there was no stopping these incorrigible carolers. “Jingle Bells” was next, then a funereal rendition of “Good King Wenceslas.”

As I scowled at these stubborn Christmas canaries fanned out around my yard, it occurred to me they wanted something.

I wondered what would make them go away. Our Halloween candy was gone, our Christmas cookies not yet baked. I was fresh out of figgy pudding.

I considered gum.

Instead, I stepped inside and clicked the deadbolt.

I could hear the gay apparel gang grumbling. Trust me when I tell you that few things are more troubling than cranky carolers on your porch after dark.

Since that not-so-silent night, I’ve done all sorts of embarrassing things to avoid these impromptu recitals. I’m not proud to admit this, but yes, I was home last year when a gaggle of giggling neighbors went a-wassailing and rang my bell.

I heard a familiar voice call out, “Open up, Kerry. We know you’re in there!”

I was. Sitting on the floor.

Yes, carolers can be a cheery part of Christmas. But there are risks whenever you knock on a door and break into song.

The person who answers may be pining to hear “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

Then again, maybe not.