The Helen Creighton Folklore Society Presents:
MERRY CHRISTMAS
from
What The Folk!
folksongs . folktales . folkcraft . folklore
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all thru Just Us!
Not a singer was singing nor making a fuss.
The coffee pots hung by their handlers with care
In hopes that the singers soon wouldn’t be there.
The Chai tea and Nestle were snug in their drawers
While creatures with sugar crumbs danced on the floors.
Big Mama in her headband and I in my toque
Had just settled down from a night of abuse.
When out side the door there arose such a clatter
The creatures all scurried to the cookie dough batter.
Away to the window we flew without poise
Tore open the shutters and threw up. The noise
Of the crooners arrested our ears
And the lack-lustre music gave rise to our fears
When what to our mortified eyes did we see
But guitars out of tune and eight tinny folkies.
With a little old guy’s verses so out of sync
We knew in an instant we needed a drink.
More rapid-fire E chords this chorister played
And he whistled and shouted and called more by name.
“On D-chord… some dancing and prancing you vixens…
On C-chord… Hey stupid! It’s dawning you’re ditz’n.
To the top of the chorus… to the top of the call
Now bash away… smash away… clash away all.”
The dry heaves were worse than Wild Hurricane wine,
So we ran to the bathroom ‘cause we knew the signs.
While out on the sidewalk the choristers ceased.
”Thank the Good Lord for that! At last… we’ll have peace!”
And then, as we tinkled, we heard on the stairs
A God-awful wailing that gave us both scares!
As we stuck out our heads and were looking around,
Down the staircase the whole of them came. Oh the sounds!
They were dressed… well some were… from their heads to their feet
In 60s clothes tarnished with Patchouli and Deet!
A rumble of noise overwhelmed front to back,
As these tone-challenged meddlers broke in for a snack.
Their eyes how they wrinkled! Their pimples how scary!
Their cheeks were like Moses! Their noses were hairy!
They drooled! Little mouths were drawn on with lipstick
And the beards on the women made both of us sick.
They stumbled upright. One held tight to his teeth.
And the bloke in the circle was dead we believed.
He had a broad’s face but his clothes were all wrong
And they shook him and laughed when he didn’t respond.
They were chummy that bunch and hungry as well
And we hid in the bathroom to help save ourselves.
The twinkies, the pie and fists full of bread
Soon gave us to know there’d be nothing left.
They spoke with their mouths full and sang that way too
Come to think of it… they sounded better. Who knew?
And Ladyfingers aside… saved the best for the end,
Cinnamon buns to take home for their friends!
They sprang to their feet! Well they tried but they couldn’t…
They were too stuffed with carbs that they’d eaten but shouldn’t.
But I heard them exclaim, ‘ere they passed out that night,
"Happy Christmas to all, we done it up right!"
With apologies to
Clement Clarke Moore (1779 -1863)
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