Here’s a Christmas poem I wrote many moons ago, submitted for your reading pleasure.
'Twas the night before Christmas when, what in the hell?
A fat bearded man standing ringing my doorbell?
Checking the time as I got out of bed
I opened the door – there he was, all in red.
I moaned “Jesus Christ, it’s a quarter of two.”
He replied “Well, I would have come down through the flue
But your chimney is clogged up, with ashes and shit.”
I sarcastically said, “Be right back, let me clean it.”
He said “Not to worry, just came to deliver
Your presents!” His grin down my spine sent a shiver.
So I invited him in. In my good chair he sat.
(I thought he would break it - my lord he was fat!)
He exclaimed “Merry Christmas!” Me: “Big fat hairy deal.”
He retorted “I’ve not come to give, but to steal
Your money!” With this he pulled out a gun,
Aimed it at me, whispered “You’re fucked now, son.”
So he looted my place, and took all my money.
And he laughed “Ho, ho, ho” so I asked “What’s so funny?
Christmas is time for giving, and sharing.
And here you rob me? You’re sick! And uncaring!”
He replied “I’m so sorry you feel that way, Mac.”
He finished his theft, put my shit in a sack.
And as he was leaving I spit at the creep
Who said “Well, goodnight, and have a nice sleep.”
And laying a finger aside of his ear
He hopped in my car - out of town he did steer.
But I heard him exclaim from my car he’d done stole:
“Have a fucking grand Christmas and New Year, asshole!”