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Wednesday, 24 December 2014

RUDOLPH'S LAMENT

No bells ring,
No angels sing,
It's fucking cold-
My tushie froze,

Its Xmas Eve,
I got a nose bleed,
And some ijit
Is skipping
Tingaling-a-linging?

Now that fat old bastard
Is loaded and bloated
With egg-nog and rum
Singing HO HO HO
And FI FO FUM;

He's taking his list
He's checking it twice,
While we poor shits
Stand in the ice.

He's tripping,
And swilling,
And soon
(God willing)
He'll get going;

But still
There's no knowing
What time
We'll be home.

So now the bastard
Is high on his seat
Dribbling on his beard
And cracking his whip;

You'd think after all
These bloody years
He'd get my name right?
HI HO SILVER -
He screams,

Prancer snickers,
And nudges Dancer,
But I just sigh
And pull on ahead.

It's cold, my nose
Is sore and red,
It's going to be
A fucking long night...

God's truth,
I'd rather be home
In my bed and let
That bitch Vixen
Take point instead.

Manuela Cardigs

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