BJF
24-12-2006, 12:18 PM
Adapted by Yvonne Morrisin
‘Twas the night before Christmas:
There wasn’t a sound.
Not a possum was stirring:
No-one was around.
We’d left on the table\some tucker and eer.
Hoping that Santa Clause
Soon would be here:
We children we snuggled up safe in our beds.
While dreams of pavola danced in our heads:
And mum in her nightie, and dad in his shorts.
Had settled down to watch TV sports.
Whe outside the house
A mad ruckus arose:
Loud squeaking and banging
Woke us from our dose.
We ran to the screen door,
Peeked cautiously out,
Snuck onto the deck,
Then let out a shout.
Guess what had woken us up
From our snooze.
But a rusty old ute
Pulled by eight mighty ‘roos.
The cheerful man driving
Was giigling with glee,
And we both knew at once
Who this plump bloke must be.
Now, I’m telling the truth – it’s all dinki-di,
Those eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.
Santa leaned out the window to pull on the reins,
And encouraged the ‘roos, by calling their names.
Now, Kylie! Now Kirsty!
Now, Shazza and Shane!
On, Kipper! On. Skipper!
On, Bazza and Wayne!
Park up on that water tank,
Grab a quick drink,
I’ll scoot down the gum tree,
Be back in a wink!
So up to the tank
Those eight kangaroos flew,
With the ute full of toys,
And Santa Clause too.
He slid down the gum tree
And jumped to the ground,
Then in through the window
He sprang with a bound.
He had bright sunburned cheeks
And a milky white beard.
A jolly old joker
Was how he appeared.
He wore red stubby shorts
And old thongs on his feet,
And a hat of deep crimson
As shade from the heat.
His eyes-bright as opals –
Oh! How they twinkled!
And, like a goanne,
His skin was quite wrinkled.
His shirt was stretched over
A round bulging belly
Which shook when he moved
Like a plate full of jelly.
A fat sack of prezzies
He flung from his back.
And he looked like a swaggie
Unfastening his pack.
He spoke not a word,
But bent down on one knee,
To position our goodies
Beneath the yule tree.
Surfboard and footy-ball shapes
For us two.
And for dad, tongs to use
On the new barbeque.
Mysterious package
He left for our mum,
Then he turned and he winked
And he held up his thumb.
He strolled out on deck
and his ‘roos came on cue:
Flung his sack in the back
and prepared to shoot through.
He bellowed out loud
As they swooped through the gates –
Merry Christmas to all
And goodonya, mates!
‘Twas the night before Christmas:
There wasn’t a sound.
Not a possum was stirring:
No-one was around.
We’d left on the table\some tucker and eer.
Hoping that Santa Clause
Soon would be here:
We children we snuggled up safe in our beds.
While dreams of pavola danced in our heads:
And mum in her nightie, and dad in his shorts.
Had settled down to watch TV sports.
Whe outside the house
A mad ruckus arose:
Loud squeaking and banging
Woke us from our dose.
We ran to the screen door,
Peeked cautiously out,
Snuck onto the deck,
Then let out a shout.
Guess what had woken us up
From our snooze.
But a rusty old ute
Pulled by eight mighty ‘roos.
The cheerful man driving
Was giigling with glee,
And we both knew at once
Who this plump bloke must be.
Now, I’m telling the truth – it’s all dinki-di,
Those eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.
Santa leaned out the window to pull on the reins,
And encouraged the ‘roos, by calling their names.
Now, Kylie! Now Kirsty!
Now, Shazza and Shane!
On, Kipper! On. Skipper!
On, Bazza and Wayne!
Park up on that water tank,
Grab a quick drink,
I’ll scoot down the gum tree,
Be back in a wink!
So up to the tank
Those eight kangaroos flew,
With the ute full of toys,
And Santa Clause too.
He slid down the gum tree
And jumped to the ground,
Then in through the window
He sprang with a bound.
He had bright sunburned cheeks
And a milky white beard.
A jolly old joker
Was how he appeared.
He wore red stubby shorts
And old thongs on his feet,
And a hat of deep crimson
As shade from the heat.
His eyes-bright as opals –
Oh! How they twinkled!
And, like a goanne,
His skin was quite wrinkled.
His shirt was stretched over
A round bulging belly
Which shook when he moved
Like a plate full of jelly.
A fat sack of prezzies
He flung from his back.
And he looked like a swaggie
Unfastening his pack.
He spoke not a word,
But bent down on one knee,
To position our goodies
Beneath the yule tree.
Surfboard and footy-ball shapes
For us two.
And for dad, tongs to use
On the new barbeque.
Mysterious package
He left for our mum,
Then he turned and he winked
And he held up his thumb.
He strolled out on deck
and his ‘roos came on cue:
Flung his sack in the back
and prepared to shoot through.
He bellowed out loud
As they swooped through the gates –
Merry Christmas to all
And goodonya, mates!