Thursday, 24 December 2015

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS... with apologies to Mr. Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a gift was wrapped, maybe 'cause I'm soused.
The baking's done and frozen outside with some care 
Everyone best like them or I'll be a damn grumpy bear.

CatMate is nestled... adding more fur to the bed.
I doubt he's dreaming, just snoring instead
I'm still in my pj's... braless of course.
Watching Doctor Who, a marathon in full force.

When out on the deck there arose such a clatter,
I limped from the lazyboy... me face covered in batter.
Away to the doors I muttered, 'oh balderdash'
Peered through the window and checked out the mountain ash.

The sand on the crest of the newly shovelled snow
Made it easier for the neighbourhood dogs to go...
When, what to my bleary eyes should appear
That damn YEG magpie squawking with cheer.

With the little ol' bird, so annoyingly quick,
I knew the lil' bastard was up to his tricks.
More rapid than swallows his curse shouting it came,
He whistled, and cawed, and shouted out names;

"Now, merino! Now, 'paca, now, chashmere and llama!
On, angora! on qivet! on, camel and 'paca!
To the top of the shelf! to the top of the cupboard!
Now Stash away! Stash away! Stash away all!"

And then, in a instant, I heard with some awe
The prancing and pawing of each little claw.
Eating the cookie dough, and turned quick around,
Up on the deck railing YEG Magpie came with a bound.

He was dressed all in his feathers, no more no less
No clothes he wore... sad I was, I must confess...
A bundle of fluff he had flung on his back,
He was looking for a spot to drop his wee pack.

His eyes -- they looked wary, he wasn't too merry!
Those iridescent feathers was none too luminary!
His sad little beak was chomping some chow,
While his wings kept flapping all crazy and how;

The stump of a chip he held tight in his beak,
It was all he had, he looked a tad bleak;
I offered him cookie dough, some raisons for his belly
The closer he came, well, he was a bit smelly.

Soon he was perched on the edge of the bowl,
Bobbing and diving; overeating was his goal;
With warmth on his back and a gentle touch to his head,
Soon gave him to know he had nothing to dread;

He squawked not a sound, but went straight to his pack,
Unloaded all his fluff; dropped pretty needles with a good wack,
And placing his head on the side of me nose,
I tied on him a wee muffler, with a tear, I must disclose;
He sprang from the deck, along with a whistle,
Away he flew with the speed of a missle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,