A Christmas Poem from Barnsley

A Very Merry Christmas to you all - here is a little poem from my home town, which I do believe Santa is very fond of. We don't leave him mince pies, we leave him pork ones with brown sauce and pies. I think this may have something to do with it. Best Wishes - Milly xxx

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse The whippets were snoring all snug in their begs While visions of dried pigs ears danced in their heads And I in my curlers, with Baileys nightcap Had just settled down for a long winter's nap When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprang from my pit to see what was the matter Oh God, not some hoodie with drug-addled brain Out to kill me for pence just to buy crack cocaine!!! But no, twas a sleigh landing lively and quick I knew in a moment, it must be St Nick He was leading eight reindeer all cuddly and tame And he whistled and shouted and called them by name "Now Demi, now Jordan, now Gaga and Whitney On Cheryl, on Shannon, on Brooklyn and Britney" (Alas even in these traditional rhymes Names are obliged to move with the times) His eyes how they twinkled, his nose like a cherry He made straight for my bottle of Bristol Cream Sherry He was portly - with chins, a right jolly elf If I hadn't just waxed, he'd have looked like myself Though red's not forgiving and had I been him I'd have gone for all black with a fake sable trim His sack was packed full with iPhones and iPods "Eeeh the kids of today" he said "Spoilt little sods No orange, no nuts, no small hanging socks They want five hundred quid and a flaming X Box" He laughed like a drain then "So long as they're happy You can't have bairns sad cos their presents are crappy" Then spotting the carrots he said "Oh that's kind To have the concerns of my reindeer in mind. They so love their vegs, they'll have quite a feast And then they'll be trumping till Easter at least." He looked at his list, "And now let me see What, my dear lady, did you ask from me?" "A Tiffany watch," I said, "Three Mont Blanc pens Brad Pitt in his pants and a Mercedes Benz" I tried, but it came as little surprise To get Thorntons and books and some slippers my size. He burped up his booze, like a typical bloke Then adjusted his crotch and fastened his cloak He gave me awink and bid me adieu Then called to his reindeer and sprang up the flue They rose to the sky and there in formation They flew faster away - than Tiger Wood's reputation But I heard St Nick shout as he guided his fleet "Happy Christmas Dear Barnsley - God Bless... and Good Neet."