Nick drops by

Here’s a Christmas poem I wrote a while ago. Basically a parody on the classic A Visit from Saint Nick by famed American poet Clement Clarke Moore. Please forgive the lack of metre in this poem as I suppose the lack of one to convey the clumsiness of the main charitable guest himself, but also due to the fact that I was experimenting back then, for those of you who want a more orderly poem rest assured that I’ll be publishing one shortly.

Nick Drops By – A Christmas Visitation:

‘Twas the nocturnal time afore Yuletide
Not a rodent stirred nor cried
Socks, trousers and pants by the stov’
Soaking wet it dampen’d the ember’s glow

The kids crammed into a single warm bed
With hopes of presents by the tree’s stead
Pa’ and ma’ sleeping lightly in their room
Trying to escape workin’ day gloom

A banging and thud was heard from the yard
Then a tremendous boom large and hard
I sped from my bed towards the window
Curtains open’d and I wanted to know

The glow from the lanterns lit the night
Into darkness I peer’d and what a sight
A carriage drawn by several dreary ‘deer
What was this and why was it here?

A swollen man cramped into the seat
‘Twas Father Christmas that I might greet?
He lashed out his whip and slapped them with flout
Roaring foul words and spewed all of their names out

”Cometh  Farter, on Filth!
Now Shitter and Belcher!
Haste Vomit, on Putrid, hie, hie, Chunder and Squelcher
Above to the roof! Ye rotten cretins, haste!
Hurry, hurry! I have no bloody time to waste!”

In the same manner as a rocket he dashed on
If hapless bird met the carriage, in crimson mist gone
And onto the rooftop the bulky wagon fluttered
Full with treats and the pilot, whom words of rage uttered

A terrible din echoed from the roof
The sound of driver and hoof
I cowered in a corner out of fright, into a ball I did roll
Father Christmas came bursting down the chimney hole

His furry garbs were filled with ash and grit
The dusty hobo sat on his arse, arose and did spit
He reached into his pockets cruddy and begrimed
Was this the jolly potbelly to whom merriment chimed?

Furiously drunk his eyes they gleamed
Malodourous hygiene from his armpits beamed
His mouth hollow with a single tooth, small and lone
His beard fill’d with dead vermin bone

The room still filled with black and ashy air
Darkened further by the smog from his pipe, kindl’d by flare
Suddenly his face cring’d into yearning torment
The festive fatso piss’d into the fireplace and did lament

The bulging burglar turn’d around and gave me a stare
I shriek’d in terror by this sudden surly glare
He fart’d loudly and soon donned a smile
Alas, fear had taken over me for a while

He scratched his arse and began his seasonal toil
Forth from his pockets came dubious treats in foil
Thus he stumbl’d back into the wettened fireplace
Twist’d his nose, off he soared fartingly with great pace

Strenuously he squeezed his giant gut into the tiny seat
Cracked the whip and off they went, this motley fleet
Afore he vanish’d from my field of view
He bellowed: ”Happy bloody Christmas from me to all of you!”

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