Thursday, 6 November 2008


I wish to make a serious complaint
And don’t think I’m a loony, ‘cos I ain’t
You’ll have to hear me out, because
I’m getting sick of Santa Claus
He’s acting really strangely, for a saint

Now here’s the thing that drives me round the bend
Whilst shopping in the wonderful West End
I walk in any major store
And Santa’s got there just before…
He’s stalking me, the swine! This has to end!

The blighter’s with me everywhere I go
And now I dread the sound of “Ho Ho Ho!”
He accosted me in Hennes
With a bucket full of pennies
And a shaker full of artificial snow!

He always has a different disguise;
His height, his voice, the colour of his eyes
But that beard of snowy grey
Is a proper give-away
And the suit! He isn’t hard to recognise

Now I won’t have Santa laughing up his sleeve
A restraining order’s due, I do believe
You can tell that awful rotter
That he’s absolutely gotta
Keep away from me, (at least ‘til Christmas Eve)

Will Hames, November 2008

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