T'Was the Night Before Christmas

T’was the night before Christmas
Santa lay on his bed
An ice cold wet cloth
Atop his “big head”

For after the reindeer
Were put back in the barn
He stopped for a “wee dram”
To spin an old yarn

Then somewhere between
The sixth and tenth stout
It seems that old Santa
Forgot what it was about

So amid tinkling of glass
And a drooping left eye
He left through the chimney
Without saying good-bye

Mrs Clause waved her finger
Her lips moving quickly
Santa heard nothing
He was feeling quite sickly

He saw in the window
The snickering elves
And threatened to put them
All back on their shelves

He swore to himself
This won’t happen again
Next time I will stop
Two stouts before ten


©12/16/2022
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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May Avatar
December 24, 2022 at 6:44 AM
Congrats on your win John, Very nicely penned, Merry Christmas
Alex Avatar
December 23, 2022 at 7:44 PM
Very interesting writing on Santa. Clever decision as well. Congratulations!
Messina Avatar
December 19, 2022 at 3:01 AM
Clever and entertaining...with all the traveling he had to do...he should have stayed up late and finished the bottle.
Slaughter Avatar
December 16, 2022 at 11:29 AM
Well, John, I think after all these years of "milk and cookies", it's high time we let the jolly old fat man have some grown-up fun. I certainly had "a wee dram" reading this delightful ditty.
Wolf Avatar
December 16, 2022 at 10:39 AM
Sounds like Santa could use an 'Apple Watch' under his tree! I think they measure the 5 minute-gaps in 'stouts.'
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