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