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Guest BJF

An Aussie Night before Christmas

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    Guest BJF

    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!

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    Guest hayls

    Hi Di,

    the girls really like this and have printed it to take to my mums tonite as we go there for tea every xmas eve.

    Have good one and see you soon

    Haylsxx :lol:

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