001 - A Christmas Visitor - Poem by George Hunter
Woke up this morning at four twenty four
When I heard a loud banging on my front door.
Who can that be at this ungodly hour?
It's enough to make a Saint go sour.
I leaped out of bed and threw on my wrapper,
Didn't even take time to go to the crapper,
But I ain't no Saint and I was getting irate
As I went to see who was at my front gate.
Stumbling down the hall, ‘bout tripped over my dog,
Who was lying there like a slumbering log.
Got to the front and threw open the door
Ready to give someone the old What For!
But I reeled back, in great surprise
As I couldn't believe my very eyes.
It was a jolly old soul in a Santa suit
Dressed all in red from head to boot.
About that time my good humor was fleeting
When he said Ho, Ho, Ho, as a way of greeting.
I asked, Why are you pounding on my front do'
And standing there calling me a ho'?
He said, Please calm down a little bit
You don't have to have a tizzy fit.
I just stopped by to have a brew
And ask a little favor of you.
I was just cruising around checking all the numbers
Trying not to wake anyone from their slumbers.
I do this every year or so, if you'll believe,
So I can find my way easier on Christmas Eve.
I was mushing along, when, what do you suppose?
Suddenly the light went out on Rudolph's nose.
So I landed here, taking good care,
And thought I'd ask you if you had a spare.
I looked over his shoulder, and sure as shootin'
There was a team of reindeer pawin' and rootin'
So I checked in the cupboard and found a spare bulb or two
Then me and Santa sat down and had a nice cold brew.
He shook my hand and said, It's been a pleasure,
Maybe next Christmas I can leave you a treasure.
Then he replaced the lamp and leaped on his sled
And I started to go back to my vacated bed.
I heard him shouting as he flew outta sight
Ho! , Dancer and Prancer, Robert, John, Marie, and Lottie!
Ho! Rosie, Frederick, George, Dixie, and Dottie!
I went back to bed to resume my sleep
And fell into a slumber that was so deep.
Woke up in the morning and couldn't remember
If it was April, May, June, or December.
Seems like I had a crazy dream last night
But I couldn't recall it all, try as I might.
Went to the kitchen to make me a cuppa
Saw a couple of dead soldiers
Musta been left over from after suppa.
Didn't remember drinking those
That happens sometimes, I do suppose.
Went out front to bring in the paper
Saw that there must have been some kind of caper.
There were hoofprints and droppings everywhere
And even some sled tracks here and there.
It was one of those things you can't explain
Even if you rack your weary brain.
All of the above gives me a pause
As I know in my heart
There ain't no Santy Claus.
(Or is there?)
Comments about 001 - A Christmas Visitor by George Hunter
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.