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Friday, December 26, 2014

Sorry it's late, but it is funny ...

Night Before Christmas in Aussie land cid:7365F46A90694405989D705CA4128A6D@OwnerPC
'Twas the night before Christmas; 
there wasn't a sound. 
Not a possum was stirring; 
no-one was around.

We'd left on the table 

some tucker and beer, 
Hoping that Santa Claus 
soon would be here;

We children were snuggled up 

safe in our beds, 
While dreams of pavlova danced 
'round in our heads;

And Mum in her nightie, 
and Dad in his shorts, 
Had just settled down 
to watch TV sports.

When outside the house 

a mad ruckus arose; 
Loud squeaking and banging 
woke us from our doze. 

We ran to the screen door, 
peeked cautiously out, 
snuck onto the deck, 
then let out a shout.

Guess what had woken us 

up from our snooze, 
But a rusty old Ute pulled 
by eight mighty 'roos. 

The cheerful man driving 
was giggling with glee, 
And we both knew at once 
who this plump bloke must be.

Now, I'm telling the truth 

it's all dinki-di, 
Those eight kangaroos 
fairly soared through the sky.

Santa leaned out the window 

to pull at the reins, 
And encouraged the 'roos, 
by calling their names.

'Now, Kylie! Now, Kirsty! 

Now, Shazza and Shane! 
On Kipper! On, Skipper! 
On, Bazza and Wayne! 

Park up on that water tank. 
Grab a quick drink, 
I'll scoot down the gum tree. 
Be back in a wink!'

So up to the tank 

those eight kangaroos flew, 
With the Ute full of toys, 
and Santa Claus too. 

He slid down the gum tree 
and jumped to the ground, 
Then in through the window 
he sprang with a bound.

He had bright sunburned cheeks 

and a milky white beard. 
A jolly old joker 
was how he appeared. 

He wore red stubby shorts 
and old thongs on his feet, 
And a hat of deep crimson 
as shade from the heat.

His eyes - bright as opals - 

Oh! How they twinkled! 
And, like a goanna, 
his skin was quite wrinkled! 

His shirt was stretched 
over a round bulging belly 
Which shook when he moved, l
ike a plate full of jelly.

A fat stack of prezzies 

he flung from his back, 
And he looked like a swaggie 
unfastening his pack. 

He spoke not a word, 
but bent down on one knee, 
To position our goodies 
beneath the yule tree.

Surfboard and footy-ball 

shapes for us two. 
And for Dad, tongs 
to use on the new barbeque. 

A mysterious package 
he left for our Mum, 
Then he turned and he winked 
and he held up his thumb;

He strolled out on deck 

and his 'roos came on cue; 
Flung his sack in the back 
and prepared to shoot through. 

He bellowed out loud 
as they swooped past the gates- 
and goodonya, MATES!'


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