Happy Festive Season 2023

Twas the night before chrissy, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse;
The stockings were hung by the tele with care,
In the hopes that St. Nick soon would be there;
The Billy Kids were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Zooper Doopers danced in their heads;
And mamma in her nightie and I in my daks,
Had just settled down for a long summer’s relax;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter;
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash;
The moon on the breast of the newly polished backhoe,
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,
But a clapped-out old ute, and eight roos on a jumping spree;
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick;
More rapid than a cat on a hot tin roof they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
‘Now, Shazza! Now, Tanya! Now, Jonno and Timmy!
On, Bluey! On, Macca! On, Chookie and Kimmy!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now bounce away! Bounce away! Bounce away all!
As the dry leaves that before the wild bushfires fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house top the roos bounced to;
With the ute full of toys, and St. Nick slightly askew;

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the tin roof,
The bouncing and pawing of each big galoof;
As I drew in my hand and made a quick dash,
Down through the ceiling, St. Nick came with a crash;
He was dressed in a pair of stubbie’s and a chesty bond,
And his clothes were all tarnished from the colorbond;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a swaggie just opening his pack;
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, from his recent glass of sherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up with a snicker,
And the beard of his chin was stained of liquor;
The stump of a durry he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a keg for a belly,
That shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly;
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old bloke,
And I said, is this a bloody well joke?
A wink in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk;
Over to the fridge, where he skulled a beer,
Then as he passed, clapt me around the ear;
He sprang to his ute, to his roos he gave a whistle,
And away they all took off, like a missile;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Happy Chrissy to all, and to all a good night!