‘Twas the night before Christmas; there wasn’t a sound.
\nNot a possum was stirring; no-one was around.
\nWe’d left on the table some tucker and beer,
\nHoping that Santa Claus soon would be here;
\nWe children were snuggled up safe in our beds,
\nWhile dreams of pavlova danced ’round in our heads;
\nAnd Mum in her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,
\nHad just settled down to watch TV sports.
\nWhen outside the house a mad ruckus arose;
\nLoud squeaking and banging woke us from our doze.
\nWe ran to the screen door, peeked cautiously out,
\nSnuck onto the deck, then let out a shout.
\nGuess what had woken us up from our snooze,
\nBut a rusty old Ute pulled by eight mighty ‘roos.
\nThe cheerful man driving was giggling with glee,
\nAnd we both knew at once who this plump bloke must be.
\nNow, I’m telling the truth it’s all dinki-di,
\nThose eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.
\nSanta leaned out the window to pull at the reins,
\nAnd encouraged the ‘roos, by calling their names.
\n‘Now, Kylie! Now, Kirsty! Now, Shazza and Shane!
\nOn Kipper! On, Skipper! On, Bazza and Wayne!
\nPark up on that water tank. Grab a quick drink,
\nI’ll scoot down the gum tree. Be back in a wink!’
\nSo up to the tank those eight kangaroos flew,
\nWith the Ute full of toys, and Santa Claus too.
\nHe slid down the gum tree and jumped to the ground,
\nThen in through the window he sprang with a bound.
\nHe had bright sunburned cheeks and a milky white beard.
\nA jolly old joker was how he appeared.
\nHe wore red stubby shorts and old thongs on his feet,
\nAnd a hat of deep crimson as shade from the heat.
\nHis eyes – bright as opals – Oh! How they twinkled!
\nAnd, like a goanna, his skin was quite wrinkled!
\nHis shirt was stretched over a round bulging belly,
\nWhich shook when he moved, like a plate full of jelly.
\nA fat stack of prezzies he flung from his back,
\nAnd he looked like a swaggie unfastening his pack.
\nHe spoke not a word, but bent down on one knee,
\nTo position our goodies beneath the yule tree.
\nSurfboard and footy-ball shapes for us two
\nAnd for Dad, tongs to use on the new barbeque.
\nA mysterious package he left for our Mum,
\nThen he turned and he winked and he held up his thumb;
\nHe strolled out on deck and his ‘roos came on cue;
\nFlung his sack in the back and prepared to shoot through.
\nHe bellowed out loud as they swooped past the gates-
\nMERRY CHRISTMAS to all, and goodonya, MATES!’<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
‘Twas the night before Christmas; there wasn’t a sound. Not a possum was stirring; no-one was around. We’d left on the table some tucker and beer, Hoping that Santa Claus soon would be here; We children were snuggled up safe in our beds, While dreams of pavlova danced ’round in our heads; And Mum in … <\/p>\n