Posts : 6835
    Join date : 2011-07-17


    Post  Sykes on Fri Dec 13, 2013 1:15 pm

     Gill Ashton
    As we seem to be getting into the festive spirit, and with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore...

    'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat
    not a creature was stirring, not e’en Cuddle Cat
    The children were tucked in their blankets with care,
    in the knowledge that nobody soon would be there.

    The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
    while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
    And Mama in her gladrags, and I in my shorts,
    had just settled our brains which were so full of Thoughts.

    When out on the balcony rose such a clatter,
    I glanced from my table, thought “What is the matter?”
    To the apartment I flew like a flash,
    tore open the shutter [erm, maybe I didn’t…um…er….], and threw up the sash.

    The moon in the sky lit the balcony so,
    gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
    when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
    but miniature Tapas - nine tiny reindeer.

    With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
    I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

    More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
    and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
    "Now Jezza! Now Kathy!
    Now, Davey and Fifi!
    On, Janey! On, Matty!
    On, Ray, Roo and Deedee!
    To the top of the porch!
    To the top of the wall!
    Now dash away! Dash away!
    Dash away all!"

    As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
    when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
    so to the apartment the Tapas Nine flew,
    with their heads full of tales, and St. Nicholas too.

    And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
    the prancing and pawing of each little untruth.
    As I drew in my head and was turning around,
    down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

    He was dressed all in grey, from his head to his foot,
    and his character tarnished with ashes and soot.
    A bundle of lies he had flung on his back,
    and he looked like a pedlar just opening his pack.

    His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
    His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
    His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
    and the words on his lips were as white as the snow.
    The stump of the Truth he held tight in his teeth,
    but the smoke and the mirrors were good as a wreath.
    He had manicured hands and a well-nourished belly,
    and a wonderful presence, when speaking on telly.

    His bank account plump, a right jolly old elf,
    and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
    A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
    soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread.

    He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
    giving interviews, saying Amaral was a jerk.
    And laying his finger aside of his nose,
    and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

    He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
    And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
    But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
    "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

    Truth is the Daughter of Time
    Rachel Granada

    Posts : 1089
    Join date : 2013-08-08


    Post  Rachel Granada on Tue Dec 17, 2013 9:18 pm

    I've just seen this. Penned by the Olive from "On The Buses" lookalike off hoho's.

    Composing a "comedy" poem about the abduction of a 3 year old child?

    Hang your head in shame, you disgusting specimen.

      Current date/time is Thu Dec 13, 2018 6:05 am