Christmas Musings

There's nothing like Christmas to bring out the rhymester in me. Im fact, it's becoming a bit of a tradition. Starting with the following:

Compliments of the Season

As the yuletide season nears
I thought I'd take the time
To send a greeting to you all
And compose this little rhyme.

I've racked my brains for something new
To say that won't sound trite,
But everything's been done to death.
I just can't get it right!

Like "Wish you well on this Noel"
Or "Have a Cool Yule!"
Or "Hark! The merry yuletide bell!"
(Oh! Come on! Think, you fool!)

I guess I'll have to face the facts
It's an impossible mission.
And after all, it's Christmas time!
So why break with tradition?

To everyone who reads these lines
This wish rings loud and clear
Have a Very Merry Christmas
And the Happiest New Year!!!

Then there was the one I wrote when I was working at the fish and chip shop and working Christmas Eve:

Merry Fishmas and a Chippy New Year!

'Tis the night before Christmas, and all through the place
The fishcakes are vanishing without a trace.
The fish, the sausages, the chicken, the pies
Disappearing like magic before our eyes!

The pace is so hectic, the fryer feels frazzled
While the counter assistants are dazed and bedazzled!
The till's begun smoking - it can't take much more!
And still we've got people pouring in through the door!

The shop's full to bursting - we can't fit them all in,
And if this was a pub, we'd yell "No room at the inn!"
But the tide of humanity is now ebbing away
And all is at peace at the end of the day.

Still one thing remains for the staff here to do.
Here's our Christmas message to each one of you.
To quote C C Moore (and I hope that's alright!)
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Then three years ago, this one:

A Christmas Toast

The Christmas season is almost here.
The shops are filled with delights.
Everyone's busily wrapping up gifts
And untangling fairy lights.

But at this time of year it's nice to recall
The loved ones who matter the most.
So to all of the people who enrich my life
I'd like to raise this toast!

May your days be blessed with happiness,
Your nights with peaceful dreams,
And may you find fulfilment
And success in all your schemes!

And now, here's my latest effort!

Christmas List

Here's Santa in his workshop.
He's looking pretty p****d
'Cos some great thieving mongrel's
Gone and pinched his Christmas list!
How's he gonna know for sure
If a child's been good or bad?
And if that list doesn't show up soon,
He's gonna get quite mad!
The elves are getting nervous
As the accusations fly,
And they're on the verge of walking out!
What a catastrophe! Oh, my!
The reindeer are indignant
To be turfed out of their stable
While Santa searches frantically,
Upturning everything he's able.
Then, just as all looks hopeless
And Santa's fit to drop,
In rushes Mrs Claus saying
"I've just been to the shop,
To get some last-minute items,
And you won't guess what I've done!
I pulled out my list - and lo and behold!
I'd picked up the wrong one!"
Well, Santa stood there staring
At his wife through tears of joy!
Then with great haste he loaded up
His sleigh with every toy.
He apologised to all his friends
For his behaviour all that day
And promised that they'd find
A little extra in their pay!
So, calamity averted,
Santa sped off on his way
To deliver all the presents.
Then came home at break of day.
His missus stood there waiting
With a surprise in store -
She said "It's a technological age!
Who needs written lists any more?
I've bought us both a laptop
Yours is blue and mine is pink,
So we can tell them both apart."
She said, "Now. What do you think?"
"Oh! Clever, clever woman!"
Santa cried, "What a great idea!
I'll start a spreadsheet to keep a tab
On the chidren from year to year!"
Well, I suppose it was inevitable,
Even necessary, on the whole,
That technology would eventually
Find it's way to the North Pole!

And finally...

I hope that you've enjoyed my rhymes.
It's always been my passion
To make my readers smile, and bring some ease,
After a fashion.

And though I know it's early still
(November's not yet done)
Here's a heartfelt wish from me to you...

Merry Christmas, everyone!!!

Some More of my Favourite Poems

The Lion and Albert

There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool,
That's noted for fresh air and fun,
And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.

A grand little lad was young Albert,
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle,
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.

They didn't think much of the Ocean:
The waves, they were fiddlin' and small,
There was no wrecks and nobody drownded,
Fact, nothing to laugh at at all.

So, seeking for further amusement,
They paid and went into the Zoo,
Where they'd Lions and Tigers and Camels,
And old ale and sandwiches too.

There were one great big Lion called Wallace;
His nose were all covered with scars -
He lay in a somnolent posture,
With the side of his face on the bars.

Now Albert had heard about Lions,
How they was ferocious and wild -
To see Wallace lying so peaceful,
Well, it didn't seem right to the child.

So straightway the brave little feller,
Not showing a morsel of fear,
Took his stick with its 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And pushed it in Wallace's ear.

You could see that the Lion didn't like it,
For giving a kind of a roll,
He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im,
And swallowed the little lad 'ole.

Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence,
And didn't know what to do next,
Said 'Mother! Yon Lion's 'et Albert',
And Mother said 'Well, I am vexed!'

Then Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom -
Quite rightly, when all's said and done -
Complained to the Animal Keeper,
That the Lion had eaten their son.

The keeper was quite nice about it;
He said 'What a nasty mishap.
Are you sure that it's your boy he's eaten?'
Pa said "Am I sure? There's his cap!'

The manager had to be sent for.
He came and he said 'What's to do?'
Pa said 'Yon Lion's 'et Albert,
'And 'im in his Sunday clothes, too.'

Then Mother said, 'Right's right, young feller;
I think it's a shame and a sin,
For a lion to go and eat Albert,
And after we've paid to come in.'

The manager wanted no trouble,
He took out his purse right away,
Saying 'How much to settle the matter?'
And Pa said "What do you usually pay?'

But Mother had turned a bit awkward
When she thought where her Albert had gone.
She said 'No! someone's got to be summonsed' -
So that was decided upon.

Then off they went to the P'lice Station,
In front of the Magistrate chap;
They told 'im what happened to Albert,
And proved it by showing his cap.

The Magistrate gave his opinion
That no one was really to blame
And he said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms
Would have further sons to their name.

At that Mother got proper blazing,
'And thank you, sir, kindly,' said she.
'What waste all our lives raising children
To feed ruddy Lions? Not me!'

Marriott Edgar

Faithless Nelly Gray

Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms.

Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, 'Let others shoot;
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot.'

The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, 'They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs.'

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, --
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay.

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off.

'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!'
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be a little more uniform.

Said she, ' I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave

'Before you had those timber toes
Your love I did allow;
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now.'

'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
For all your jeering speeches,
At duty's call I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches.'

'Why, then,' said she, 'you've lost the feet
Of legs in war's alarms,
And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms!'

'O false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet, some other man
Is standing in my shoes.

'I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death' -- alas!
You will not be my Nell!'

Now when he went from Nelly Gray
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot.

So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did intwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line.

One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs;
And, as his legs were off -- of course
He soon was off his legs.

And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town;
For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down.

A dozen men sat on his corpse,
To find out why he died, --
And they buried Ben in four cross-roads
With a stake in his inside.

Thomas Hood

The Tale of Custard the Dragon

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

Ogden Nash