Ok, so this is bad! It’s a dreadful attempt at poetry, but I just had to write it! The rhyme is corny, it doesn’t flow and I’ve used any ‘ole words as long as they fit! But I had a real laugh laying it down and I make no apologies for thrusting it at you. And by the way, can I remind my American friends that in England a fag is a cigarette not the other thing! Here goes!
‘Twas Christmas Eve and three men died,
and climbed the stairs to heaven.
But when they knocked on Peter’s gate
He said they’d have to sit and wait.
‘It’s Christmas Eve, I need my rest
My annual holiday’,
They pleaded, begged down on their knees’
‘tis Christmas help us please..’
‘OK’ said Peter, ‘here’s what I’ll do
I’ll set a test for all of you.
If you can give me festive cheer
Then there’s a place for you in here’
The first man thought and suddenly
His cell phone rang and rang.
St Peter said ‘that sound will do
I’m going to let you walk on through’
‘You see’ he said,’ it sounds like bells,
bells on Christmas day’
‘Come on in, sit right down’
You can wear my pearly crown.
The second man lit up a fag
He lit it with a match
‘That’s great’ said Peter,’ that will do,
You can come on in here too!’
You see he said, that’s just like lights
Lights I had at home.
Like Christmas candles on my shelf
You’ve taken me outside myself.
The third man wondered what to do
His mind was just a blank.
Then he remembered what he did
That caused his heart to shoot it’s lid.
He plunged his arm into his bag
And rummaged through his bits.
Then held his hand up really high
and waved a thong up in the sky!
‘That’s not festive’ Peter said
‘It’s intimate apparel’
‘It’s Christmassy’ the dead man said
'Because this thong is Carols!'