Santa's Sigh...a poem.

Santa’s Sigh

Our santa claus is feeling weary
His bloodshot eyes are tired and bleary
A pinched red nose from Christmas frost
His faculties are almost lost.

His hair is streaked with chimney soot
A painful blister on each foot.
His suit is creased and caked in grime
This happens every Christmas time.

He’s squeezed himself through tiny spaces
Caught his beard up in his braces
He’s knocked his knee and bumped his head
And fallen over tiny beds.

He’s lost his list, mislaid his map
Mixed up presents in his sack
Forgot to M.O.T. his sleigh
And lost a reindeer on the way.

He’s double parked on yellow lines
Now has a stack of parking fines
He’s knocked down gates and startled pets
Accumulated several debts.

He’s flown into electric wires
And whipped the tops off churches spires
He’s worried sheep and churned up lawns
Crash landed in a field of corns

Despite all this he’s flown them miles
Made many million little smiles
So now our santa needs a rest
He’s done his job and done his best.

In the quiet of Christmas dawn
He leads his deer from cold to warm
A cosy barn with thick, sweet hay
He beds them down without delay

Then lights the fire and bolts the doors
And settles down with Mrs. Claus
He pours a sherry, warms his toes
His shoulders droop, his eyelids close.

The morning choir of garden birds
Sing sweetly but they can’t be heard
Mrs. Claus looks on, so proud
As Santa snores extremely loud.

Ellen Johns 2007