MystyrMystyry
12-24-2014, 05:04 AM
Part One
Against the upper window bangs the snowy bough;
The gale to end all gales and upon this sacred night!
I race upstairs in an attempt to tie it and thus pre-empt
A glassy calamity on the carpet - oh that'd be a blight!
A weight tied to one end I manage to lasso it on the bend;
But hooping the rope over I realise I simply cannot reach;
I'll need to venture outside and try scale the trunk so wide;
I see the flakes have fallen heavily up and down the street
From this Heavenly litter: roofs, trees, and poles a-glitter;
All abandoned cars and trucks resemble molded mounds;
Even a snowed in snowplough too - but I have a job to do;
Distant tiny tinkling, but I've no inkling: "Just Santa on his rounds"
At the next branch I nearly slip, I say I nearly take a final dip;
From the icy bark I almost meet my terminal downfall;
In the sky again a jingling! I look up to see Kris Kringling!
The actual Father Christmas delivering presents to one and all!
With a Ho! And a Ho! And yet another Ho! he braves the falling snow,
The elements all cold and icy, but it is the path he's chosen;
For me away from the blazing fire, it surely builds my ire;
And now out here, to my freezing bones I'm nearly frozen!
My limbs they are brittle, icicles my spittle, fingers frostbittle;
But upon climbing to the third branch I really lose my grip;
Numbness tenses my toes up, and thence my arse it goes up;
Downward I am falling, every inch appalling, one word escapes my lip;
Through it all the thunder crashes, as the blizzard howls;
And as I drop, and spin quite helpless, I am certain to meet my untimely;
Through it all the lightning flashes, as each reindeer growls;
But that is it! How could it be!? Oh Golly! Oh Gosh! Oh Cor Blimey!
Part Two
It is a miracle to be sure, and beyond what I could have wished for;
That through the wind he hears me and zeroes in on my location;
He loops the loops, and downward swoops, before me up he scoops;
Me, useless me, who through ill-planning forgot to go on vacation!
We soar through the sky, interweaving clouds up on high;
Eight turbocharged reindeer fed on purest organic grass;
They fart quite some, and I gag at just how noisome;
But hey I'm here with Santa and it's a total blast!
Not to miss a delivery, throughout the sleigh's red livery,
I see radars and GPSes transmitting data upon a colour screen;
But best of all, beneath the dash, amongst the technical stash,
On the passenger side no less, snug nice and cosy seen -
An open fireplace! A saving grace, before I kneel and thaw my face,
But also do I find a cache, of strange unfamiliar armaments;
"What are these?" I ask Santa, who casually sips a Brandy and Fanta;
He gives no answer, gestures down at the public ornaments;
"Hidden there," a measured pace, "monsters from out of space!"
I look and squint, at where he points, as the fire rages hot,
But I see nothing, least a monster, unless he means Christmas lobster??
When behind the trees I spy some feet! That is definitely what!
Great hairy feet, at the end of which razor sharp talons bend;
Reverse knees next, in the middle of long armoured legs;
Monsters so well concealed, but now I know they're soon revealed;
First obscured by baubles - the eyes! The size of ostrich eggs!
Huge red eyes, so full of rage, ready for their war to wage;
The more trees I see, the more I notice their footsteps muddy;
Their necks cloaked in feathers, and death hounds at the end of tethers!
Above the collars gaping snouts, filled with snarling fangs so bloody!
Part Three
So many - outside every house! Can Santa match their tactical nous?
Poised to strike at midnight from the places where they are lurking;
How will Santa cope with the devils? Perhaps enlisted hidden elves?
At the stroke of eleven he stands up and commences happily twerking!
He turns to me, and with much aplomb: "Pass me the Candy Bomb!"
I reach into the green bag of tricks, find what he alludes to;
He releases the reigns - no need to fly it, he sets the sleigh to autopilot;
He holds it careful, over Main St drops it, watches it spin on through;
Suddenly it explodes with a flash, filling the air with sweet thick gas,
Which settles slowly, forming a film of glue-like sticky;
So this then is his game plan: to trap them like flies on FlyBan;
Oh man, kudos to Santa for everything, for being so tricky!
Then he asks another one: "Hand me the Icicle Machinegun!"
I comply after brief fumble around - it's heavy, but solid;
He shoots, and shoots, and shoots, and I am proud to be in cahoots;
Except he does not shoot at them, rather around, so stolid;
But what he does, by not shooting them? Ice cages for to hem!
So they are trapped for all to see - or would if not for the next demand:
"The Snowball Cannon, if you please?" I locate it quite with ease;
I hand it to him proud to assist - his wish is my command!
He blasts the balls and fills the cages, all while the wild storm rages;
The monsters they are frozen now, frozen like two bit snowmen;
So we're off to deliver presents, with snacks this part could be very pleasant;
Such a night I think and wonder, with my new bud Santa - what a showman!
.
Against the upper window bangs the snowy bough;
The gale to end all gales and upon this sacred night!
I race upstairs in an attempt to tie it and thus pre-empt
A glassy calamity on the carpet - oh that'd be a blight!
A weight tied to one end I manage to lasso it on the bend;
But hooping the rope over I realise I simply cannot reach;
I'll need to venture outside and try scale the trunk so wide;
I see the flakes have fallen heavily up and down the street
From this Heavenly litter: roofs, trees, and poles a-glitter;
All abandoned cars and trucks resemble molded mounds;
Even a snowed in snowplough too - but I have a job to do;
Distant tiny tinkling, but I've no inkling: "Just Santa on his rounds"
At the next branch I nearly slip, I say I nearly take a final dip;
From the icy bark I almost meet my terminal downfall;
In the sky again a jingling! I look up to see Kris Kringling!
The actual Father Christmas delivering presents to one and all!
With a Ho! And a Ho! And yet another Ho! he braves the falling snow,
The elements all cold and icy, but it is the path he's chosen;
For me away from the blazing fire, it surely builds my ire;
And now out here, to my freezing bones I'm nearly frozen!
My limbs they are brittle, icicles my spittle, fingers frostbittle;
But upon climbing to the third branch I really lose my grip;
Numbness tenses my toes up, and thence my arse it goes up;
Downward I am falling, every inch appalling, one word escapes my lip;
Through it all the thunder crashes, as the blizzard howls;
And as I drop, and spin quite helpless, I am certain to meet my untimely;
Through it all the lightning flashes, as each reindeer growls;
But that is it! How could it be!? Oh Golly! Oh Gosh! Oh Cor Blimey!
Part Two
It is a miracle to be sure, and beyond what I could have wished for;
That through the wind he hears me and zeroes in on my location;
He loops the loops, and downward swoops, before me up he scoops;
Me, useless me, who through ill-planning forgot to go on vacation!
We soar through the sky, interweaving clouds up on high;
Eight turbocharged reindeer fed on purest organic grass;
They fart quite some, and I gag at just how noisome;
But hey I'm here with Santa and it's a total blast!
Not to miss a delivery, throughout the sleigh's red livery,
I see radars and GPSes transmitting data upon a colour screen;
But best of all, beneath the dash, amongst the technical stash,
On the passenger side no less, snug nice and cosy seen -
An open fireplace! A saving grace, before I kneel and thaw my face,
But also do I find a cache, of strange unfamiliar armaments;
"What are these?" I ask Santa, who casually sips a Brandy and Fanta;
He gives no answer, gestures down at the public ornaments;
"Hidden there," a measured pace, "monsters from out of space!"
I look and squint, at where he points, as the fire rages hot,
But I see nothing, least a monster, unless he means Christmas lobster??
When behind the trees I spy some feet! That is definitely what!
Great hairy feet, at the end of which razor sharp talons bend;
Reverse knees next, in the middle of long armoured legs;
Monsters so well concealed, but now I know they're soon revealed;
First obscured by baubles - the eyes! The size of ostrich eggs!
Huge red eyes, so full of rage, ready for their war to wage;
The more trees I see, the more I notice their footsteps muddy;
Their necks cloaked in feathers, and death hounds at the end of tethers!
Above the collars gaping snouts, filled with snarling fangs so bloody!
Part Three
So many - outside every house! Can Santa match their tactical nous?
Poised to strike at midnight from the places where they are lurking;
How will Santa cope with the devils? Perhaps enlisted hidden elves?
At the stroke of eleven he stands up and commences happily twerking!
He turns to me, and with much aplomb: "Pass me the Candy Bomb!"
I reach into the green bag of tricks, find what he alludes to;
He releases the reigns - no need to fly it, he sets the sleigh to autopilot;
He holds it careful, over Main St drops it, watches it spin on through;
Suddenly it explodes with a flash, filling the air with sweet thick gas,
Which settles slowly, forming a film of glue-like sticky;
So this then is his game plan: to trap them like flies on FlyBan;
Oh man, kudos to Santa for everything, for being so tricky!
Then he asks another one: "Hand me the Icicle Machinegun!"
I comply after brief fumble around - it's heavy, but solid;
He shoots, and shoots, and shoots, and I am proud to be in cahoots;
Except he does not shoot at them, rather around, so stolid;
But what he does, by not shooting them? Ice cages for to hem!
So they are trapped for all to see - or would if not for the next demand:
"The Snowball Cannon, if you please?" I locate it quite with ease;
I hand it to him proud to assist - his wish is my command!
He blasts the balls and fills the cages, all while the wild storm rages;
The monsters they are frozen now, frozen like two bit snowmen;
So we're off to deliver presents, with snacks this part could be very pleasant;
Such a night I think and wonder, with my new bud Santa - what a showman!
.