this came through my email, i had to share it
It was hotter than haides, as we lay on our beds.
Sweat in our eyes and chilled towels on our heads.
The night air was filled with the buzzing of flies,
As we argued if Santa Claus was a big pack of lies.
'Twas the night before Christmas; there wasn't much sound.
Not a possum was stirring; no-one was around.
We'd left by the chimney some tucker and beer,
hoping to bribe Santa Claus, to stop here this year;
Too hot for blankets, we lay under a sheet,
and listened to the scurry of the little lizard feet;
our Mum in her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,
asleep by the tellie as it played 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 on the verandah, then let out a shout.
What do you reckon woke us up from our snooze,
But an old Holden Ute pulled by eight kangaroos.
The cheerful man driving was giggling with glee,
And we both knew at once, who this drunk bloke must be.
Now, I'm telling the truth it's all dinki-di,
Those eight big red 'roos fairly soared through the sky.
Santa leaned out the window and heaved on the reins,
And cursed at the 'roos, as he called out their names.
"Stop, Digger! Hold, Bonza! Stand still, Shazza and Shane!
Whoa Kippa! Stop Skipper! Bloody Bazza and Wayne!
Park under the water tank, grab a quick drink,
I'll shoot in the back door and be back in a wink!"
So under the rain tank those eight big reds bounded,
The pounding of roo feet, how sweet they all sounded.
Santa tripped on the doorway and fell to the ground,
Cursed as the screen door made it's old groaning sound.
He had bright sunburned cheeks and a grubby white beard.
A jolly old joker was how he appeared.
He wore red stubby shorts and red thongs on his feet,
And a hat of deep crimson to shade from the heat.
His eyes - bright as opals - Oh! how they twinkled!
And, like a goanna, his skin was all wrinkled!
His stained shirt was stretched over his great big beer belly
Which shook when he moved, like a bowl full of jelly.
A fat stack of prezzies were hung from his back,
He looked like a swaggie unfastening his pack.
He cursed and he grunted as he bent down on one knee,
and spilled all our goodies under our tree.
A surfboard and footy shapes for us two.
For Dad, a flash new tong set, for his barbeque.
A mysterious package he left for our Mum,
Then he burped and he winked and he held up his thumb;
He strolled on the verandah and his 'roos came on cue;
Chucked his sack in the back and prepared to shoot through.
He bellowed out loud as they leaped through the gates -
"MERRY CHRISTMAS to all, and Good-on-ya, MATES ! "
Have a great christmas everyone
toad
