Father Christmas is coming to stay
With Rudolph and his jingling sleigh
The reindeer can bed down in the hay
But where will Mr Christmas stay?
He can’t sleep on his bulging sack
With presents digging in to his poor old back
And up the chimney will bring a sneezing attack
We’d never hear the end of the flack.
I’ve heard that Mr Christmas likes a drop
And that it’s guaranteed to make him stop
And rest, around his worldly hop
Maybe being tipsy will help him flop.
Oh dear, this really is a tricky riddle
We’ll just have to pop quickly down to Lidyl
To lace Father C’s midnight nibble
And get him right royally tiddled.
When he’s suffering the effects of our ware
He won’t have a worry or a care
Where he lays his soft white hair
Or whose bed it is that he can share.
In fact, it’s when he’s wobbly and lolloping
And finished all his Christmas frolicking
That we can gently make sure he drops in
To his very own Christmas stocking.
Yes, it’s here that he can snore aloud
With his body cocooned and his head still proud
Dangling off the chimney round
And where on Boxing Day morn he can be found.
That’s where Mr Christmas can stay
And he will never ever get away
From his stocking cocoon. By the way?
Did I tell you Father Christmas is coming, TO STAY!
Like paintings, words have the power to connect. I share my insights and poems here with you in the hope that they benefit others.