Will and Guy bring you a collection of Christmas verses, a few are funny,
other are just fun, while the rest are Christmassy. We wanted to created a
little oasis where we could tell the Christmas story through poetry.
Santa's coming to St Ann's, we can be sure of that, whilst our mam's
been dieting, the goose has gotten fat! Dad's bought home a tree that's
a bit frayed round the edges and we kids write our Santa list for snow
and oh yes, sledges!
We know he's heading our way and will soon be coming here, we 'King'
kids have, give or take, been good throughout the year! Carol singers
come a-calling, mam shoos them all away, she's not a penny to her name
now she's catered for this day.
Dad's plucked a hen (the poor man's goose) tied and trussed it tight,
which our mam will set a'cooking in the middle of the night! Proudly
peeking in cupboards overstuffed with Christmas food, puts a smile upon
her face and her in a rare good mood.
The cake tin's filled to bursting with sugar drenched mince pies and
the contents have been counted against certain prying eyes! Tomorrow
they'll grace the table, bought to the Christmas feast; we'll each get
one, though we could eat a dozen at the least!
Giblets, skin, and bloody bits go into the boxing-day pot, to be
joined by tomorrow's chicken bones, be they chewed or not! Dad hauls up
the garlands we kids have licked and stuck and pins them over the
fireplace, amid the coal dust muck.
He gently gets out our old 'friends' and trims the Christmas tree,
there's Santa's, elves and fine glass balls, we count them 1-2-3.... The
angel goes on last of all with wand and skirt so wide, dad sticks her on
the topmost branch, no wonder she's boz eyed!
Its sited too close to her larder, blocking her festive fare,
"Couldn't yo' put it somewhere else?" she gives him a steely glare! Dad
ignores the accusing look and as she turns to go, he grabs and pulls her
back for a kiss 'neath the mistletoe.
Now he helps us hang our stockings on the mantelshelf, where we hope
to find them stuffed by Santa and his elf! It's a rare night for
laughter, with fun from A to Zed, until we hear mam's dulcet tones say
"Come on yo' lot, bed!"
Fearlessly we race upstairs, to a mattress sopping wet, but attic
ghosts and bedbugs on this night pose no threat. Across the road The
Beacon shuts, the revellers head for home loudly calling 'Merry
Christmas' to neighbours Fred and Joan.
Footsteps fade, the street is still, the moon rides high and grand, I
slip from bed to window, scratch the frost 'lace' off by hand. Moffat
Street is empty, deserted by one and all and in the glow of the street
lamp I see snow begin to fall.
I scan the skies above me, but of Santa there's no sight. The
creeping frost turns breath to fog this bitter winter night. Back in bed
I wait for what the midnight hour will bring.... the old man from next
door will traditionally start to sing.
"Oh come all ye faithful," to the attic his song travels well, once
he's coughed and cleared his throat, his voice begins to swell. He 'Ding
Dongs Merrily On High' 'til his wife drags him to bed. "You'll go and
wake them kids next door, you're drunk p***d again our Fred."
"Them walls is singing again Mickey" I nudge my brothers chest, but
he is soundly sleeping and doesn't hear my whispered jest. Now the
silent night has crept along this terraced square, to the attic with the
pee soaked bed that three small children share.
Christmas is getting closer, we're in a state of grace, from all the
family traditions our mam has put in place. With drooping eyes I pray as
I kneel upon the floor, and offer thanks, for on this night, could we
ask for more?
Footnote: This is an original poem by
Joy James, it's not for
reprinting without permission.
Dashing through the snow In a one horse open sleigh O'er the fields
we go Laughing all the way
Funny Alternative to The Christmas Rhyme
A risk assessment must be submitted before the open sleigh is deemed safe
for members of the public. It must also be considered whether it is
appropriate to employ only one horse for this activity, depending on size of
sleigh and the persons upon it. Note that permission from landowners
must be gained prior to entering fields. Please also consider those who
choose not to participate in Christmas festivities, and keep laughter to a
moderate level not loud enough to be considered a noise nuisance.
While Shepherds Watched
While shepherds watched Their flocks by night All seated on the
ground The angel of the Lord came down And glory shone around.
Funny Alternative to Poem
Requiring shepherds to watch their flocks without appropriate and
flexible seating arrangements is a contravention of health and safety
regulations and human rights. The provision of benches, stools and
orthopaedic chairs is recommended. The angel of the Lord is also
reminded that before shining his or her glory around it must be ascertained
that all shepherds are issued with suitable eyewear conforming to British
Standards for filtering the harmful effects of UVA, UVB and glory.
Little donkey, little donkey on the dusty road Got to keep on plodding
onwards with your precious load
Funny Alternative to Poem
Strict guidelines issued by the RSPCA [Royal Society for the Prevention
of Cruelty to Animals] must be adhered to at all times in relation to the
heaviness of the load that Donkey is permitted to carry. A twenty-minute
uninterrupted rest break is a statutory requirement per six hours of
plodding. It is considered unlawful and an infringement of equine rights for
said Mr. Donkey to be referred to in terms bearing relation to his stature
which may be perceived to carry negative connotations by Mr Donkey or a
third party. Please also note that due to the risk of pollution from the
dusty road, Mary and Joseph are required to wear face masks to prevent
inhalation of any airborne particles.
We Three Kings
We three kings of Orient are Bearing gifts we traverse afar Field
and fountain, moor and mountain Following yonder star
Funny Alternative Verse
Navigation by yonder stars is not advised and we would politely suggest
that traversing kings make use of satellite navigation or a recognised
internet route-finder prior to commencing their journey. This will ensure
the quickest route and most optimal journey with regard to fuel consumption
is identified. In addition, whilst the gift of gold is considered
acceptable, gifts of frankincense and myrrh are not appropriate due to the
potential risk of allergic reaction caused by such oils and fragrances. A
suitable alternative may be a gift voucher.
The time had come around again it was time to get our tree In the car
we piled us boys, my sister on mum's knee Out into the country, dad drove
for miles and miles When at last he found the place, we could not contain
Dad headed to the tall pine trees, his sharpest axe in hand Dutiful
behind him trailed his merry little band At last he spied the one he
sought, a sapling straight and tall "This will please your mum" he said,
indeed it pleased us all.
With swift clean strokes he had in no time cut it down We placed the
tree atop the car and headed back to town The decorating of the tree this
year would be supervised by Mum The final piece, "The Angel" would be
placed by the youngest one.
This year my baby brother would be helped by sis and me But as we
lifted baby up we tripped and fell into the tree Tangled in the trimmings
we rode the tree as down it came Mid tears and cries right through the
lounge room window pane.
I carried on tradition with my children every year But when it came to
"Angel" time up came a nagging fear Of breaking glass and angels wings
and the message that it sent To place my tree in a great big pot in
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the
room and I cherished the sight. My wife was asleep, her head on my
chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest. Outside the snow fell,
a blanket of white, Transforming the garden to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that
was Christmas Eve. My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep. In perfect contentment, or
so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near, But I opened my eyes
when it tickled my ear. Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then
the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow. My soul gave a
tremble, I struggled to hear, And I crept to the door just to see who was
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night, A lone figure
stood, his face weary and tight. A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years
old, Perhaps a Marine, huddled there in the cold. Alone in the dark,
he looked up and smiled, Standing watch over me, and my wife and my
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear, "Come in this moment, it's
freezing out here! Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!" For barely a moment I saw
his eyes shift, Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light Then he sighed and
he said "Its really all right, I'm out here by choice. I'm here every
night." "It's my duty to stand at the front of the line, That
separates you from the darkest time.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me, I'm proud to stand here like
my fathers before me. My Grandfather died in France , on a day in
December," Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gran always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the snows of Ardennes And now it is my turn to
stand with the men.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while, But my wife sends me
pictures, he's sure got her smile. Then he bent and he carefully pulled
from his bag, The red, white, and blue... a Union flag. I can live
through the cold and the being alone, Away from my family, my house and
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet, I can sleep in
a trench with little to eat. I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother.. Who stand at the front
against any and all, To ensure for all time that this flag will not
" So go back inside," he said, "harbour no fright, Your family is
waiting and I'll be all right." "But isn't there something I can do, at
the least, "Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast? It
seems all too little for all that you've done, For being away from your
wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, "Just tell us you love
us, and never forget. To fight for our rights back at home while we're
gone, To stand your own watch, no matter how long. For when we come
home, either standing or dead, To know you remember we fought and we
bled. Is payment enough, and with that we will trust, That we
mattered to you as you mattered to us."
Sent from Elsie. - Please send us your Christmas poem.
There once was a
shining Christmas tree Standing out where all could see. Its
brilliance captured very eye And seemed to cheer each passer-by.
"The lights are so bright", they would say And hesitate to walk away.
The tree stood proud ablaze with light For every light was burning
Then one bulb was heard to say "I'm tired of burning night and day;
I think I'11 just go out and rest For I'm too tired to do my best;
Besides, I am so very small I doubt if I'd be missed at all."
Then a child lovingly touched the light
"Look, mother, this one shines so very bright. I think of all the
lights upon the tree This one looks the best to me."
"Oh my goodness," said the light "I almost dimmed right out of sight.
I thought perhaps no one would care If I failed to shine my share."
With that a glorious brilliance came For every light had felt-the same.
Our Gospel, like this Christmas tree
With little lights which are you and me
We each have a space that we must fill With love, and lessons and good
will. Let's keep our tree ablaze with light With testimonies burning
For our Gospel is a living tree That lights the way to eternity.
Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul, With a corncob pipe and a
button nose And two eyes made out of coal. Frosty the snowman is a
fairy tale, they say, He was made of snow but the children Know how he
came to life one day.
There must have been some magic in that Old silk hat they found.
For when they placed it on his head He began to dance around. O,
Frosty the snowman Was alive as he could be, And the children say he
could laugh And play just the same as you and me.
Thumpetty thump thump, Thumpety thump thump, Look at Frosty go.
Thumpetty thump thump, Thumpety thump thump, Over the hills of snow.
In 1950 Gene Autry and the Cass Country Boys recorded 'Frosty the
Snowman'. Other artists have made cover versions including Ella
Fitzgerald and The Jackson 5.
Some versions have an extra verse.
Frosty the snowman knew The sun was hot that day, So he said,
'Let's run and We'll have some fun Now before I melt away.' Down to
the village, With a broomstick in his hand, Running here and there all
Around the square saying, Catch me if you can.
He led them down the streets of town Right to the traffic cop. And
he only paused a moment when He heard him holler 'Stop!' For Frosty
the snow man Had to hurry on his way, But he waved goodbye saying,
'Don't you cry, I'll be back again some day.'
Thumpetty thump thump, Thumpety thump thump, Look at Frosty go.
Thumpetty thump thump, Thumpety thump thump, Over the hills of snow.
Frosty the Snowman is a popular Christmas song written by Steve 'Jack'
Rollins and Steve Nelson and recorded by Gene Autry and the Cass County Boys
in 1950. Like Jingle Bells and several other songs about winter, Frosty the
Snowman is considered to be a Christmas song despite not mentioning
Christmas at all. It was written after Gene Autry recorded 'Rudolph the
Red-Nosed Reindeer' and the single sold 2 million copies.
In Baltimore there lived a boy, He wasn't
joy. Although his name was Jabez Dawes, His character was full of flaws. In school he never led his classes, He hid old ladies'
glasses, His mouth was open when he chewed, And elbows to the table glued.
He stole the milk of hungry kittens, And walked through doors marked '
. He said he acted thus because
any Santa Claus. Another trick that tickled Jabez Was crying '
at little babies. He brushed his teeth, they said in town, Sideways instead of up and down.
Yet people pardoned
every sin, And viewed his antics with a grin, Till they were told by Jabez Dawes, 'There isn't
any Santa Claus!'
Deploring how he did behave, His parents swiftly sought their grave. They
hurried through the portals pearly, And Jabez left the funeral early.
Like whooping cough, from child to child, He sped to spread the rumor wild: 'Sure as my name is Jabez Dawes There isn't
Slunk like a weasel or a marten Through nursery and kindergarten, Whispering low to every tot, 'There isn't
any, no there's
The children wept all Christmas Eve And Jabez
chortled up his sleeve. No infant dared to hang up his stocking For fear of Jabez'
ribald mocking. He sprawled on his untidy bed, Fresh malice dancing in his head, When presently with scalp
a-tingling, Jabez heard a distant jingling; He heard the crunch of sleigh and hoof Crisply alighting on the roof.
What good to rise and bar the door? A shower of soot was on the floor. What
was beheld by Jabez Dawes? The fireplace full of Santa Claus! Then Jabez fell upon his knees With cries of '
, 'and '
He howled, 'I don't
know where you read it, But anyhow, I
never said it!'
'Jabez, 'replied the angry saint, 'It isn't
you that ain't
. Although there is a Santa Claus, There isn't
any Jabez Dawes!'
Said Jabez with impudent vim, 'Oh, yes there
is; and I am him! Your magic don't
scare me, it doesn't '
And suddenly he found he wasn't!
From grimy feet to grimy locks, Jabez became a Jack-in-the-box, An ugly toy with springs unsprung,
Forever sticking out his tongue. The neighbors heard his mournful squeal; They searched for him, but not with zeal. No trace was found of Jabez Dawes, Which led to thunderous applause, And people
drank a loving cup And went and hung their stockings up.
All you who sneer at Santa Claus, Beware the fate of Jabez Dawes, The saucy boy who mocked the saint. Donner and Blitzen licked off his
Alternative Ending to Santa Claus by Ogden Nash
......After And went and hung their stockings up.
All you who sneer at Santa Claus, beware the fate of Jabez Dawes, The
saucy boy who told the saint off; the child who got him, licked his paint off.
Footnote: Please send us your funny or short
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