David Bourke

Anagrammy Awards > Literary Archives > David Bourke

Original text in yellow, anagram in pink.


'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes - how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"


'Twas on that Christmas Eve night,
When "Blighty" went off the rails;
Brown huffed, "Och, what a headache!",
Hid, and then chewed-off his nails.

Of the hard-working middle-class tax he had need,
For his hidden chav underclass continued to breed,
And his fat Public Sector got EVEN more bloated,
To ensure 'New Lab' in Downing St. they gratefully voted.

High Lord Mandelson? Oh, how he'd plot! How he'd scheme!
(While of shadowy oligarchs he gayly would dream).
Jacqui Smith (the Home Sec) in her jackboots she'd strut,
While all freedom of speech she'd dismember and gut.

The new Chancellor, he'd tweak-down his V.A.T. rate,
And we sleepwalked into an E.U. Superstate.
The enterprise days, alas, now were numbered;
- With even more red tape were firms then encumbered.

With inflation shot sky-high, with the economy wrecked,
A Police "Service"? I think "Ah, how politically-correct!"
Churches empty, now that the cross ain't allowed!
Whilst the Archbishop of Canterbury to Islam kowtowed.

In the Commons, they guffawed, THEY smoked, they got pissed,
And then helped themselves, with that "John Lewis list".
How the Big Brother state would have made Orwell proud;
- As George Galloway (in his shiny red leotard) meowed.

And the Speaker, he then let the plods nick MPs:
"Unlawful? Ah, then DO come in the House, please!".
Damian Green, his laptop and papers were lifted,
Any blame (to the Serjeant-at-Arms) that snake shifted.

Ah, The Guardian! It's loaded with posts for man-haters,
Like "Lesbian Outreach Fund Co-Ordinators".
Canary Wharf taking the taxpayers' shilling;
Bailed out with billions...oh, the banks made a killing!

Town Hall Hitlers, an inane radio show with no taste,
And astonishing nation-wide N.H.S. waste,
Filthy hospitals, and schools shut...how whitewash shares flourished!
The P.M. himself, he wasn't TOO undernourished!

Lawless "hoodies"...thick idiots who can't read or write,
While soldiers, in any old kit, an Afghan war fight.
Hypothermia claimed many a pensioner's last breath,
While in Haringey, infants got beaten to death.

How the ZaNuLab huge clunking fist heightened tensions!
(While the parasites, they all feathered their gold-plated pensions).
Inane E.U. diktats obeyed to the letter,
'Though I think: "David Cameron? Would he be any better?"

This highly-undignified, on-benefits nation
- How insane! A nanny state-caused situation.
Workshy, selfish animals, trash employed at nothing,
Oh, how awful! - Ah well! Anyone? Christmas stuffing?

The weak U.K. went downhill. Oh, what a world laughing stock!
Ha ha, funny. (With thanks to that mean, one-eyed jock).
Of hard Labour...ENOUGH! We are down on our knees!
Oh, Your Majesty, do finally dissolve Parliament...PLEASE!

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Updated: May 10, 2016


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