Kiwi spin on an old Christmas story

Twas the Night before Xmas and all through the bach,
not even a weta was making a scratch.

Woolly socks were hung by the potbelly with care,
in the hopes that Santa soon would be there.

The children were snoozing in a light summer’s breeze,
whilst dreaming of spongy pud and lime green cream freeze.

And dad in his walk shorts and me in my jandals,
had just settled down for a couple of handles.

When out on the lawn I heard such a ruckus,
I sprang from my Lazy Boy to see what the fuss was.

I ran to the sliding door, gasping and wheezing,
threw open the curtains and upped the venetians.

The moon on the sand and the Trailer tarp,
lit the beach up just like Eden Park.

But still when I saw, I thought I was asleep,
a miniature Kingswood, pulled by eight tiny sheep.

With a little old driver, sipping a Fanta,
I knew in a moment, it had to be Santa.

Faster than Phar Lap on steroids they came,
and he coo-eed and shouted and called them by name.

Now, Kevin! now, Sharlene! now, Rangi and Beck!
On, Darryl! On Shazza! on, Bilbo and Shrek!

To the top of the Pagoda, to the top of the wall,
get in behind, Get in behind, Get in behind, All!

As sandflies around a bar-b-que fly,
when they sniff the sizzlers and take to the sky.

So up to the top of the bach they flew,
with a boot full of toys and Santa Claus too.

With a handbrake stop, they arrived on the roof,
four Goodyear tyres and 32 hoofs.

And as I quickly turned and ran to the lounge,
out from the chimney Santa came with a bound.

He was wearing board shorts, and gumboots on foot,
and his Mambos were covered in six-month-old soot.

A bundle of toys he had on his back,
as if on OE with a brand new Macpac.

He looked like he’d come from the beauty parlour,
with rosy red cheeks like pohutukawa.

A gorgeous big grin and white as white hair,
with wee little tufts growing out of his ears.

He had a broad chest and a round beer gut,
that shook when he laughed like Jabba the Hutt.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly hobbit,
and I laughed when I saw him, I couldn’t stop it.

He gave me a wink and a bonza thumbs up,
and I quickly realised he wasn’t a nut .

He went straight to the socks without saying a thing,
and filled them with barbies and Shrek keyrings.

Then giving his nose a jolly good scratch,
he flew up the chimney with an almighty flash.

He jumped in the Kingswood and cranked the ignition,
and then they took off, like some NASA mission.

But I think I could hear, as he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to a ll, have a bl#*dy good night!”

Submitted by GrownUps member Belladonna