Twelve Days of Christmas - A Cat’s Rendition
On the twelfth day of Christmas my human gave to me:
Twelve bags of catnip!
Eleven tarter Pounce treats,
Ten ornaments hanging,
Nine wads of Kleenex,
Eight peacock feathers,
Seven stolen Q-tips,
Six feathered balls,
Five milk jug rings,
Four munchy house plants,
Three running rabbits,
Two fuzzy mousies,
And a hamste-e-er in a plastic ball!!
Twas The Night Before Christmas….Mom Style
Twas the night before Christmas, when all thru the abode
Only one creature was stirring, she was cleaning the commode.
The children were finally sleeping, all snug in their beds,
while visions of Nintendo 64 & Barbie flipped through their heads.
The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
with a half-constructed bicycle propped on his knee.
So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
which made her sigh, “Now what is the matter?”
With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
She descended the stairs, & saw the old man.
He was covered with ashes & soot, which fell with a shrug,
“Oh great,” muttered the mom, “Now I have to clean the rug.”
“Ho Ho Ho!” cried Santa, “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“your gift was especially difficult to make.”
“Thanks, Santa, but all I that I want is time alone.”
“Exactly!” he chuckled, “So, I’ve made you a clone.”
“A clone?” she muttered, “What good is that?”
“Run along, Santa, I’ve no time for chit chat.”
Then out walked the clone - The mother’s twin,
Same hair, same eyes, same double chin.
“She’ll cook, she’ll dust, she’ll mop every mess.
You’ll relax, take it easy, watch The Young & The Restless.”
“Fantastic!” the mom cheered. “My dream has come true!”
“I’ll shop, I’ll read, I’ll sleep a night through!”
From the room above, the youngest did fret.
“Mommy?! Come quickly, I’m scared & I’m wet.”
The clone replied, “I’m coming, sweetheart.”
“Hey,” the mom smiled, “She sure knows her part.”
The clone changed the small one & hummed him a tune,
as she bundled the child in a blanket cocoon.
“You’re the best mommy ever. I really love you.”
The clone smiled & sighed, “And I love you, too.”
The mom frowned & said, “Sorry, Santa, no deal.”
That’s my child’s LOVE she is trying to steal.”
Smiling wisely Santa said, “To me it is clear,
Only one loving mother is needed here.”
The mom kissed her child & tucked her in bed.
“Thank You, Santa, for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won’t be very long,
when they’ll be too old for my cradle & song.”
The clock on the mantle began to chime.
Santa whispered to the clone, “It works every time.”
With the clone by his side, Santa said “Goodnight.
Merry Christmas, dear Mom, You will be all right.”
Christmas May Be Cancelled
Christmas may be cancelled
The reindeer are on strike
Santa’s stuck in Lapland
Forget your brand new bike
Christmas isn’t cancelled
Royal Mail saves the day
Postmen playing Santa
Expect that bike mid-May
A Seasonal Request
by Steve Morris
Now I’ve tried all the normal approaches
All the pick-ups an’ chat-ups an’ stuff
Tried mi hand at so-phistication
Wi’ some girls who were nowt if not rough
I’ve been seen down the discos an’ dances
Bought cocktails for them as were broke
In mi quest for the perfect companion
Who’d see me as her perfect bloke
I’ve dealt with the best datin’ agents
I’ve filled in their forms an’ told lies
About how I’m just like a male model
Wi’ tight buttocks an’ sparklin’ blue eyes
I’ve squandered mi wages on chatlines
Spent two quid a minute on t’ phone
Where I’ve ended up gaggin’ for Charleen
Even though she weighs thirty-two stone
I’ve frequented bars down the dockside
Where there’s ladies that’s best left alone
An’ I’ve offered mi body quite freely
But I’ve allus walked home on mi own
So just cos it’s comin’ up Christmas
An’ I’ve no soddin’ prospects in store
I’m wazzin’ this e-mail to Lapland dot com
An’ I’m hopin’ that this time I’ll score
Dear Santa, please bring me a woman
Fer some fun in mi fifty-third year
Let’s forget all the monogrammed hankies
All the socks an’ the chocs an’ the beer
You could leave me a fun-lovin’ floozie
Or a perfectly sweet English rose
An’ what could be quite stonkin’ is a lass who loves bonkin’
Now I really would like one o’ those
Please bring a voluptuous woman
A partner, a pal an’ a mate
I can take for a romp in the boudoir
Wi’out havin’ the need to inflate
Perhaps I should spare you the detail
But a session’s got nowt to enthral
When your off up to bed wi’ a bike pump
An’ a puncture repair kit an’ all
Please bring me a home-lovin’ woman
Cos I’ve brushed-up mi cookin’ technique
No Spam, egg an’ chips like mi mam does
But dishes that’s sexy an’ chic
We’ll have seafood an’ hot, sticky puddin’
Drink wine ’til we’re Mozart an’ Liszt
Then I’ll make several filthy suggestions
Till she finds one she just can’t resist
Please bring me an underwear woman
A lingerie kind of a dame
Who loves to wear silky suspenders
An’ doesn’t mind me doin’ t’ same
We can twang at each others elastics
Then I’ll climb up the cupboards (top shelf)
Where I’ll fling off mi big, baggy Y-Fronts
An’ dive in, like the Devil himself
Please bring me a kind, carin’ woman
Cos I know I’ve gone well past mi prime
But I’m sure I can still do the business
If I just take mi tablets on time
I won’t pester no more, that’s a promise
You won’t hear me again, not one squeak
So Santa, please bring me a woman
An’ a fresh one each night of the week
Happily Addicted to the Web
(to the tune of “Winter Wonderland”)
Doorbell rings, I’m not list’nin’,
From my mouth, drool is glist’nin’,
I’m happy–although
My boss let me go–
Happily addicted to the Web.
All night long, I sit clicking,
Unaware time is ticking,
There’s beard on my cheek,
Same clothes for a week,
Happily addicted to the Web.
Friends come by; they shake me,
Saying, “Yo, man!
Don’t you know tonight’s the senior prom?”
With a listless shrug, I mutter, “No, man;
I just discovered letterman-dot-com!”
I don’t phone, don’t send faxes,
Don’t go out, don’t pay taxes,
Who cares if someday
They drag me away?
I’m happily addicted to the Web!
T’was a Computer Christmas
T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.
The system was ready, the program was coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.
He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer;
And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
Chuckled: “My name is Santa…the last name is Claus.”
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:
“This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen.”
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.
It searched in its memory core, trying to “think”;
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:
“Your eyes - how they twinkle - your dimples so merry,
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile - all these things, I’ve been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;
But your name and your address (computers can’t lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You’ve a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowlful of jelly;
My scanners can see you, but still I insist,
Since you’re not in my program, you cannot exist!”
Old Santa just chuckled a merry “ho, ho”,
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.
The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this “data” to the machine:
“Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone’s cheer;
But you won’t get anything - that’s plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me.”
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
“Merry Christmas to All,” as he pulled out its plug!