Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Getting in the Christmas Spirit

Here's another one of my sister's poems, a Christmas poem. Actually, I can't exactly remember the whole thing so some of it is of my own creation. I hope she doesn't get mad if she ever finds out. I don't know what she calls it. For now, we'll just call it

A Trailer Park Christmas

T’was the night before Christmas
and all through the trailer
I was cussin’ assembly instructions
written in Venezualer.

The stockings was hung
by the heater so neat
because nary a one
had e’re touched a child’s feet.

The youngun’s were nestled
all snug in their beds
but they wouldn’t know a sugarplum
from a hole in their heads.

And Mama in her curlers
and I in my shorts
decided we’d have us
a couple of snorts.

When out on the lawn
there arose such a noise,
I reckoned it must be
them bad neighbor boys.

Away to the front door
I flew with my gun
and I hollered for Mama
to call 9-1-1.

The moon shined so bright
on the new fallen snow
and the yard looked real nice
cuz the trash didn’t show.

When what to my slow
lazy-eye should appear
but a miniature sleigh
and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver
as lively as May.
From the looks of his clothes,
he was probably gay.

A wink of his eye
and a twist of his head
confirmed the suspicions
I’d started to dread.

More quicker than liquor
them reindeer shot off
and I soon realized
that that sleigh was aloft.

And then in a twinkling
I heard up above
what sounded like shoppers
when they push and they shove.

I was scratching my butt
wondering what it all meant
when that feller crawls out
through the central air vent.

The way he was dressed
would make Oprah swoon
and his head was so bald
it reflected the moon.

But he had lots of hair
growing down from his chin
that was almost as white
as Michael Jackson’s skin.

The way his eyes twinkled
screamed "Christopher Lowell"
but the tag on his sack
said his last name was "Noel".

He was chubby and plumb,
not a jogger, I knew.
He could easily finish
a dozen doughnuts or two.

He spoke not a word
but flung his sack all about
Instead of putting things in,
he started taking things out.

As I wondered what kind
of a crook we had here
he filled up the stockings
with candy and beer.

He left toys for the kids
and deep down in my heart
I figured he’d stole ‘em
from the local Walmart.

And then sticking a finger
way up in his nose
and giving a nod,
up the vent pipe he rose.

He sprang to his team
and he pranced to his sleigh.
(Like I already said,
I’m quite sure he was gay.)

He gave a quick whistle
and that team, it did soar.
And I swear I ain't never
gonna drink anymore.

1 comment:

CaliValleyGirl said...

Loved it!