Poetry Thursday 72 - Mackem Xmas

 Best wishes to all for a happy Christmas. 

Santy Claws

 

Santy is a Mackem,

of that ah have nee doubt,

its plain from when he burnt his bot,

the accent of his shout.

Dad had banked the fire up,

to stay in for the neet,

Santa made a slipup,

and also burnt his feet.

ah’d left him leeks and beer,

also a carrot Mam said,

divint forget the reindeer,

ah thowt he’d prefer a Fed.

Suitably replete the owld man got busy,

stacking presents beneath the tree,

continued until he felt quite dizzy,

leaving stuff for you and me.

 

Up he got, prepared to leave,

and continue on his way,

to please the bairns who still believe,

in the magic of Christmas Day.

They slept in until 5 o’clock,

and all the leets were on,

stared at the pile of toys in shock,

but Santy Claws had gone.

The pile of bonny paper grew,

there was glitter everywhere,

perhaps in little hearts they knew,

it was mam and dad who care.

Did the bairns get all they wanted,

Playstation 5, new bike or foal,

Santy’s sack with prezzies abounded,

but some received a lump of coal.

If yer’d been bad throughout the year,

and were on his naughty list,

Christmas Day nee time of great cheer,

toys and games would be sorely missed.

After, Santy can put up his feet,

share a glass with wor lass,

consider salad an off duty treat,

and look forward to Happy Christmas.

© David L Atkinson December 2020

God Bless