|
|
If you enjoy the poetry, why not send a note to the author by email to hello@scribblingrivalry.com, who will forward your comments.
|
|
||||
|
|
The origins of the traditions of Christmas
The origins of the traditions of Christmas The snow lay deep and thick as Santa Claus leapt out of bed “Oh dear!” he called as on the low-beamed roof he hit his head. I don’t know why we have to live in such a tiny house. I s’pose it comes of having such a tiny elven spouse.”
He went down to the kitchen but he found no breakfast there. “I’m sorry,” said his lovely wife, “Today the cupboard’s bare. The sales are on and I’ve been shopping for some useful things. Some bright red twill for curtains, and curtain rails and things.”
“It’s Christmas and tonight I must go out and brave the cold. Without some food inside me I’ll be chilly ‘cos I’m old.” “Well, see if you can get something to eat along the way ‘Cos I’ll be sewing, making things, for almost all today.”
“For goodness sake, it’s only once a year that I do this. It’s not like I am always out, at golf or on the piss. But anyway I better get a move on. How time flies! If I’m to make good time, as I sledge across the skies.
“Is my best coat back from the cleaners? It went there last year.” “I’m sorry I forgot. Still away with them, I fear.” “Oh, no! What can I wear? It’s freezing. I shall get a chill.” “Don’t worry, I’ll knock something up. I’ll use this piece of twill.”
“It’s red, for God’s sake! How on earth can I be seen in that that? You’ll tell me next you’re going to make a bright red, matching hat.” “Of course, I am, it’s very trendy this year ‘mong the gnomes. They all wear red hats pulled down tight upon their balding domes.”
“Oh, by the way,” she said, “Six elves have called in sick today. That only leaves yourself and two or three to load your sleigh. There’s elven flu around this year, it seems, so please take care.” “Six elves off sick on Christmas Day – enough to make you swear!”
So grumpily the old man went out to the reindeer’s stable “I better get them harnessed up as quickly as I’m able.” But shock awaited him upon his entry to that place. Poor Rudolph dripping blood from nasty bruises on his face.
“What’s happened? Did you have a little accident? Please say!” “I had a fight, but with whom I would rather just not say. I’m fine. I’ll be OK when we set off, so please don’t fuss. But I would rather not go out tonight, with my nose thus.”
He cleaned up Rudolph best he could, and stemmed the bleeding flows And made him look OK but for his very bloody nose. “There’s not much I can do for this. It’ll have to stay for now But if this happens any more there’ll be a dreadful row!”
He went back in the house to try the suit his wife had made He put it on and stared aghast at such a gaudy shade. Just look at me? A grown man wearing red. Whatever next? And stomped outside to pack the sleigh. He really was quite vexed.
The reindeer stood and waited calmly, harnessed to his sled. And Santa stood and looked at Rudolph with his nose all red. “Disastrous! What a day it’s been. I can’t take any more If anyone talks to me right now I’ll knock him to the floor.
An Angel’d brought a Christmas tree to brighten Santa’s home, With lights and pretty baubles, all red and green and chrome. This lovely Angel only wanted to cheer Santa up Because she knew he had not yet had anything to sup.
As he approached his little house, he stomped and huffed and puffed “Of obstacles and problems, for now I’ve had enough!” The angel waiting patiently asked where to stick the tree, So Santa answered angrily, but also helpfully.
Now Christmas comes but once a year with Santa wearing red And Rudolph with his bright red nose tied up to Santa’s sled. All children leave a mince pie and a nice drink in a cup. Because they know it’s always cold, they like to warm him up.
On top of every Christmas tree a little angel, bless! The tree top shoved inelegantly right up her silv’ry dress. This Christmas Angel always manages children to beguile They wonder why it is she wears that quite inscrutable smile!
© Ken Wood 2007
The Little Christmas Tree
he Christmas tree, its head held high, stands mighty, proud and tall No matter whether towering high or even very small. It’s covered in a lush green coat that for the tree stands guard The needles feel so soft and smooth but prick if pushed too hard!
The tree is very graceful when it’s pure and unadorned But in an hour or two it can be totally transformed From nature pure and simple, very graceful in its form To bright and shining symbol of the coming Christmas morn
An angel or a star on top, aglow with pretty lights The decorated Christmas tree is one of the great sights It signifies a happy time that comes round now and then When peace, goodwill and lots of love are shown towards all Men
The Christmas tree brings love into each home in which it stands, Each reminiscent of good times and wondrous fairy lands. It brings us happiness and joy and makes us of good cheer - A shame that Christmastide comes to us only once a year.
So when December comes around, and winter draws in cold, When howling winds with icy blasts your chilly bones enfold, You need something to warm you up with great festivity Go out and bring home just the thing - a little Christmas tree.
© Ken Wood 2006
Stuffing the bird‘Twas the night before Christmas and no creature stirred, Save this guy in the kitchen who’s stuffing the bird. It lay on its back with its legs in the air. Its breasts pointed skywards. He just had to stare.
He’d mashed and he’d mixed with his hands in the meat. It was juicy and moist, such a succulent treat. As he worked on it, how he could feel his pride swell. Such a beautiful sight! Such a wonderful smell!
Then he took a great handful and forced it right in. He filled it so well, it was stretching the skin. He pushed and he shoved and the cavity filled. He held himself back. He was really strong-willed
When he’d stuffed it as far as he could down its neck, He turned it around and then thought, “Blooming heck!” He stared at the sight that he faced, quite aghast. The hole at this end was incredibly vast.
He looked at his meat and then hoped he’d enough To enable him properly this hole to stuff. He shoved it inside just as far as he could, And thought, “If I run out, there’s the old Christmas pud.”
But he found he had more than he’d ever have thought And he packed it well in till it really was taut. Then he turned it around so it lay on its front And then forced in the last with an almighty grunt.
When he’d finished, he felt quite exhausted, and yet This had been such a night, he would never forget. He’d tell the best tale people ever had heard Of the night that he’d stuffed his first Christmas bird.
© Ken Wood 2003
A Christmas DreamI had a funny dream last night, a dream I must suppose. Was shopping in the way I do inside the new Waitrose*. But as I pushed my trolley round, it’s funny but it’s true, The staff were handing out free drinks, but why, I’d not a clue.
I’d champagne by the bucketful, though served in crystal flutes And turkey rolls with reddish bits (I think some kind of fruits). I tried the oysters, washed down with a different kind of fizz, Served by a very friendly girl (I think her name was Liz).
I feasted royally on many different kinds of foods, While walking round perusing all the shelves piled high with goods. The canapés were really neat, though some were rather hot, But since all free I forced myself to sample quite a lot
And then I saw spread out on trays before my very eyes, A load of absolutely gorgeous, short-crust sweet mince pies. While munching those I realised what this was all about. It’s Christmas time. Of that there cannot be a single doubt.
The lovely folks at Waitrose wanted us to feel at home And show us that their many foods come from a gastronome. With smiles and laughter Christmas cheer was sloshed around the store. Like everyone I found myself a-wishing for some more.
But then like Cinderella, we had reached the witching time. We need to head home to our beds (a shame that doesn’t rhyme!) I slept the sleep of innocence (well, actually I think The sleep was caused more likely by the quantity of drink.
And then I woke, recalling all the pleasures of last night. A dream, I thought, it had to be. A dream I’m sure that’s right. No dream was it, I realised, as I got out of bed I think those mince pies all had finished up inside my head.
Reprinted from 'Hobnobbing' © 2003
* Waitrose - the food shops of the John Lewis Partnership
School NativityMy dearest mum and daddy too, It`s very nice, we think, of you To come and see our Christmas show. You like to see us have a go. For you we love to act and sing, But there is just one tiny thing. While you’re watching what we’re at Do you really have to chat?
It’s only for a half an hour. Surely you have got the power To listen quietly to us. You’re always telling me I must. It’s very hard to concentrate On being an Eastern potentate And follow the bright Star and sing With you lot out there gossiping.
And if you must a photo take Please have a thought, for goodness sake. Don’t just stand up and block the view Of someone sitting behind you And don’t come creeping down the aisle On all fours like a crocodile To take a picture right up close So you can see straight up my nose.
And if your camera’s the kind That does itself each little frame wind Please spare a thought for all the actors The noise it makes somewhat distracts us. It’s hard to sing a song a-stirring With all that dreadful noise of whirring. Whining, beeping, clicking too Make’t hard for us to dazzle you.
It would be sensible to wait Until the end. Please hesitate. Before we exit from the hall We’ll let you have a photo call. And you could go mad taking snaps And thus avoiding all mishaps. We’re always grateful that you’re asked But spare a thought for us the cast.
You should set us a good example. So please our efforts do not trample. If we behaved as you do, dears We’d soon have you reduced to tears. And if you’re good and make us proud By sitting quiet then clapping loud, We’ll wish you every Christmas cheer And promise to be good all year.
Reprinted from 'Hobnobbing' © 2003
Twelve Take-aways of ChristmasOn the first day of Christmas I had a take-away, a tandoori prawn masala On the second day of Christmas I had a take-away, two Peking ducks On the third day of Christmas I had a take-away, three Big Macs On the fourth day of Christmas I had a take-away, four cod and chips On the fifth day of Christmas I had a take-away, five pizzas On the sixth day of Christmas I had a take-away, six southern chickens On the seventh day of Christmas I had a take-away, seven dogs with mustard On the eighth day of Christmas I had a take-away, eight chocolate croissants On the ninth day of Christmas I had a take-away, nine bags of cookies On the tenth day of Christmas I had a take-away, ten filled baguettes On the eleventh day of Christmas I had a take-away, eleven sandwiches On the twelfth day of Christmas I had a take-away, twelve baked potatoes © Ken Wood 2003
|
|
