Saint Nicked
His suit neatly pressed on the chair by his bed
His long white beard combed and the reindeer all fed
His snow boots all polished till shiny and black
The presents all counted and packed in his sack
And now having checked all his Santa Claus gear
It’s time to set off and spread seasonal cheer
So off to his grotto he goes eagerly
Where the boys and the girls come to sit on his knee
But strangely today, things didn’t go well
And Santa Claus found himself locked in a cell
Not because any child went home neglected
All the kids got their gifts just as expected
The coppers appeared to be less than impressed
Enquiring at length about how he was dressed
I’m just so forgetful these days, Santa said
So my suits neatly pressed on the chair by my bed
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