I... thought Santa was cool,
Until he came into the house.
The old fart was pissed an swearing,
And what we saw, even killed my mouse.
He fell through the chimney,
On the embers in the fire place.
In colourful words he expressed his pain,
Which showed in his sooty red face.
He stood with his trousers round his ankles,
And his pecker pointing straight up in the air.
He slurred with the most fruitful words, I’ll never forget,
“This present is for your mother, so don’t bloody stare.”
Mama shouted in an equally explanatory tone ,
“You’ve been drinking again I see?”
She hit his tool with a wooden spoon,
And his expression was like one chewing a bee.
He fell back and landed with a thud on the floor,
Then sprung to his feet as he scream an’ bawled.
There was something dangling from his butt,
I saw its hind legs limp as he dashed out the door.
Well, I saw me Dad the next day
He looked and walked a little rough
“I told him, “No more Christmas,”
I said, “I had enough”
“It was bad enough Santa was drunk,”
“As he ran out the front door of the house.”
“But Dad I’ll never for give him,”
“For not pulling out of his butt, my suffocating little pet mouse”
**Sweets Contest **Hello Supees I'M Back
Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet