taken from this site, http://homepage.ntlworld.com/fiona.davison/poem.htm (where permission to repost electronically is explicitly given), written by Fiona Davison.
Nick’s Christmas Tale
It came upon a Christmas weary,
When all the fields were bleak and dreary,
A mist did limn the fields that night
Snow lay all around and out of sight.
When who should come dressed all in red?
A figure who was most well-fed!
His breath across the fields did steam,
Star-shine in his eyes did gleam…
Checking his list, not once but twice,
Of children who were quiet as mice,
Of who had been as good as gold,
Of who had been far too bold…
A list of all, both good and ill
A list with just desserts to fill…
Yes, you have guessed the trick…
Not Santa Claus, but Old Nick!
Strutting across the Christmas fields,
A pitchfork and sack at once he wields!
Sulphur stench around him spread,
From the snow, the white had fled!
Into the town his hooves did trot,
And no one stirred but a tiny tot,
Who turned and dreamed of reindeer hooves -
Though far more hideous the truth did prove!
Into the nursery and into the stable
Even from off the parson’s table,
Into each house and from out of each cot
From oldest to youngest to least little tot
The devil did steal and take more souls
Than fruit did heap in the Christmas bowls.
Out of the town, he crept aquiver
Sneaked through the fields and crossed the river,
Then sitting upon his now full sack,
He dropped his fork & paused for a snack…
Which choice morsel to have to a bite?
Fillet of soul is Hell’s respite!
But stay, a sound! No! Surely not?
No one had stirred but the tiny tot!
He leapt to his feet, grabbed fork and sack
And whirling, he dashed townwards back!
But down from the sky in a bolt of light
A blazing, storming, curious sight!
Out of control and falling ever,
Faster and faster and nearer ever…
A sleigh did come in such a wild ride
ALL the games and toys spilled from inside!
Tearing down from the sky with cloven hooves
To smash one on the ground with cloven hooves!
Donner and Blitzen, Dasher and Prancer…
Full racks of horns that Nick would have to answer…
Many pointed were the stars that shone that night
And the eyes of reindeer held a furious light.
On Dasher, On Dancer, On Vixen and Comet!
The saint roared from the dive’s high summit!
On Donner, On Blitzen, On Prancer and Cupid!
The wind roared, trees shook, the descent was so rapid!
Off with a bound ran Old Nick,
Across the fields he fled so quick,
But Saint Nick was not to be outdone
And reindeer in flight cannot be outrun…
Till at last, with a crash and a terrible cry
The sky swirled, time stopped and snow flew by…
In an impact so terrible that words cannot say
Old Nick was flung on his own merry way.
Not a trace was left, not even his shadow,
But a blot on the snow of bright sulphur yellow!
And Santa just paused to pick up the sack,
As a new delivery was added to his track.
This year, with new gifts, would come one that was old,
As souls were returned to their owners, more precious than gold!
And out in the fields, by the cold river
A tot pointed and said to friends with a shiver:
See those prints there, a-crossing the river?
I told you I heard reindeer go dashing out -thither.
And smiled to see the prints of Old Nick,
For none had fathomed Santa Claus’ trick!
© Fiona Davison December 2000
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[sub] BTW, my IRL name is Fiona Davison, and I started writing this on the way to work Tuesday 19 December…and could still remember enough to finish it off later that afternoon when I was driving a car![/sub]
