From the (probably not) sublime to the (quite patently) ridiculous.

The first stanza of this…poem?… has been in my head for about 30 years where it should probably have stayed.

A thirty year gestation period doesn’t seem to have helped the rest much either.

I told you I didn’t write poetry.

(But if any Christmas card companies want an alternative take on the festival; I’m available)



Christmas comes but once a year

with rain and snow and ice

but reindeer, dear are here to stay

although they harbour lice


They prance and gambol, rarely amble

trotting through the kitchen

to find themselves a tasty treat

of moss or Swedish lichen


And if upon each Christmas eve

a gent in red should ask

they’ll pull a sleigh throughout the night

a boring thankless task


They race on high across the sky

swooping here and there

dropping presents from their behinds

no hint or sign of care


But when the driver hits his limit

of sherry, scotch and pies

they’re the ones who do their best

to navigate the skies


With presents left and children happy

Rudolph and his mangy crew

land their slightly sozzled captain

miles adrift in Timbuctoo


But never fear they have a year

to get their driver back

to icy home where winds makes moan

and load another sack


So raise a cheer for reindeer dear

and toast the antlered throng

Smelly, fetid mean and brainless

they still deserve our song

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