Christmas Poem

Hi folks, I thought I would share a wee ditty penned by my son a couple of years ago...

T’was the run up to Christmas and, lo and behold, thousands of folks trudging out in the cold.

Their hands and feet frozen, the wind in their eyes. they scrambled to get to the last few Mince Pies

The slow and infirm were trampled in the scuffle to get to the last box of cheap Belgian truffles

While countless poor souls were lost in the fight for a bottle of wine, to toast Christmas night.

Suddenly, the crowd spun around with a yell and charged all at once, like a pack out of Hell.

They bashed and they battered, they pushed and they shoved For word had got out, “M&S!” “Sale on gloves!”

“My granny would love them”,”Forget her, their mine!” “LET ME THROUGH, LET ME THROUGH!”,

”OI! Back of the line!” From my vantage point, by a display of ties,

I witnessed the horror with my very own eyes As each shopper vied for a place in the queue

A little old lady hobbled into view. I cried out a warning but alas, she heard not and was trampled to naught but a small, greasy spot

Now dashing and darting, now punching and kicking

Biting and gouging, eye poking, ear flicking I saw one woman wield a small boy, like a club and I watched as the poor lad started to blub

So, twas a mercy, when she swung with such might that he slipped from her hands and flew out of sight

(He was found, safe and sound, some thirteen days later in a display of cardigans, near the escalator)

Without her weapon, she was soon overcome

By a tag teaming granny and stay-at-home mum

With a zimmer frame shot to the side of the head and a kick to the ribs, they left her for dead

They fought tooth and nail over jackets and sweaters to answer the wishes of loved ones Christmas letters

While, in the background, the Christmas muzak plays the same track repeated for twenty-odd days.

Son against daughter, father against mother they beat seven Jingle bells out of each other

charging through the store like stampeding cattle soon, the shop Santa was drawn into the battle.

He leapt from his stage, with a blood curdling yell and upon the crowd of naughty shopgoers he fell.

He had such broad shoulders, with arms like two trees and a right hook which would bring a Clydesdale to it’s knees

A fearsome sight in his suit of bright red he hoisted one old dear right over his head

and with a dark chuckle, brought her down through a stack of cut price DVD’s, snapping her back.

At the sickening crunch, the shoppers took pause such was the wrath of this store Santa Claus.

“YOU’VE ALL BEEN NAUGHTY AND NOW YOU’RE ON MY LIST!”

They could tell without doubt, Kris Kringle was pissed… And so, boys and girls, the moral of our story is to be kind to others,

or face an ending most gory. And I heard Santa roar, as I ran for my life

“SOD IT, NEXT YEAR I’LL STAY HOME WITH THE WIFE”

A Very Merry Christmas and a Healthy, Happy and Prosperous New Year to all.