As
the Festive Season approaches at a pace our thoughts turn to pressies, eating,
families (not necessarily in that order) and of course that hard working old
bloke we all lovingly refer to as Father Christmas, amongst other things!
Here’s
a little ditty from a few years back which I penned for the kids communal
Christmas card when I was a ‘dinner lady’, ‘Lunchtime Supervisor’ to be precise,
(General Dog’s Body to be even more precise!!), but, hey, who needs fancy
titles anyway?!! It all ‘boils’ down to, on the plus side, helping kids through
lunch time, and on the negative side standing in the playground in a variety of
weathers including freezing your socks off in the frost and gales! Retirement
feels good!
One
year I even resorted to dressing up as the aforesaid gentleman for a local
newspaper competition. But, not taking into consideration the intelligence of
one of the kids, my (or FC’s!) boots were recognised!! In the playground later
that day the dear little boy said, ‘You’ve got the same boots as Father Christmas!’
What are the odds of having the same footwear as old FC? Rumbled!! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Or words to that effect!!
 |
| Beware of footwear... |
Old
Santa looks down from on high
As
he flits through the stars in the sky,
His
Sat Nav’s switched on,
He
here, then he’s gone,
While
he’s proving that reindeer CAN fly!
He’s
so round and so fat that he wobbles,
From
all the mince pies which he gobbles,
His
‘doc’ caused a riot,
When
he said, ‘You must diet!’
Then
he sent him a bill for his trouble!
But,
still Santa arrives every year,
On
each Christmas Eve, for the beer,
There’s
a carrot for Prancer,
Another
for Dancer,
And
for Rudolph, his favourite reindeer.
After
squeezing down chimneys so black,
(Not
forgetting his oversized sack!)
Each
stocking he’ll stuff,
With
more than enough,
And
there’s plenty of time to get back!
He’ll
leave presents with happiness brimming,
Full
of wide smiles and wishing and dreaming,
There’ll
be gifts full of sharing,
With
oodles of caring,
Tied
with ribbons of love for the trimming!
Kids, Chrismas Eve it’s early to bed,
Straight
to sleep with your favourite Ted,
Because
when Santa comes creeping,
And
he sees that you’re peeping,
He’ll
bring me your presents instead!
Thanks for your time.
The Leebotwood Poet xx
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