That Flippin’ Old Reindeers Tail.
As Christmas cheer and the shortest day quickly draw near
I sneer at those believers in Santa, presents, and flying reindeer,
In matters of Christmas spirit Scrooge and I are of the same view,
The seasons the reason for cold-hearted merchants to turn the screw.
The notion of presents coming in the night?
You’re either six years old or not quite right.
On Christmas Eve I cast a wintry eye o’er the holiday forecast,
News of zero and below brought on bad memories of Christmas past,
As I espied the first falling snowflale I was filled not with joy but sorrow
And the certain knowledge I’d be up to my a- ankles (or deeper) in it tomorrow.
The sight of the snow a’settling on my window ledge
And my cracked-soled size nines put my teeth on edge.
‘Twas midnight when I woke to something clattering on my roof,
Something was afoot, but I couldn’t believe it was something ahoof,
Right up till I stepped out onto the roof my doubts about Kris persisted,
But one look at my shattered shingles confirmed Dasher and Co. existed.
I stood, cursing the Christ…mas out of the falling snow,
Did I hear, up there, a tinkle, a mischievous Yo ho ho?
He had good reason to fly, without goodbye or by-your-leave,
So though I hadn’t actually SEEN him, you bet your ass I believe,
It takes fresh tangible evidence for this sceptic to change his mind,
Sadly Santa- or at least the reindeer- had left heaps of presents behind.
Now ’tis not the chill of icy snow I dread,
It’s that warm sinking feeling wherever I tread.