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Be true to your Kerry, and he will be true to you

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An Aussie Night Before Christmas


T'was 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 her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,
Had just settled down to watch TV Sports,
When outside the house a mad ruckus arose;
Loud squeaking and banging woke us from our doze.

We ran to the screen door, peeked cautiously out,
Snuck onto the deck, then let out a shout.
Guess what had woken us up from our snooze,
But a rusty old ute pulled by eight mighty 'roos.

The cheerful man driving was giggling with glee,
And we both knew at once who this plump bloke must be.
Now, I'm telling the truth – it's all dinki-di,
Those eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.

Santa leaned out the window to pull at the reins,
And encouraged the 'roos, by calling their names.
'Now, Kylie! Now, Kirsty! Now, Shazza and Shane!
On, Kipper! On, Skipper! On, Bazza and Wayne!

Park up on that water tank, Grab a quick drink,
I'll scoot down the gum tree, be back in a wink!'
So up to the tank those eight kangaroos flew,
With the ute full of toys, and Santa Claus too.

He slid down the gum tree and jumped to the ground,
Then in through the window he sprang with a bound.
He had bright sunburned cheeks and a milky white beard.
A jolly old joker was how he appeared.

He wore red stubby shorts and old thongs on his feet,
And a hat of deep crimson as shade from the heat.
His eyes – bright as opals – Oh! How they twinkled!
And, like a goanna, his skin was quite wrinkled!

His shirt was stretched over a round bulging belly
Which shook when he moved, like a happy blue kerry.
A fat sack of prezzies he flung from his back,
And looked like a swaggie unfastening his pack.

He spoke not a word, but bent down on one knee,
To position our goodies beneath the Yule tree.
Surfboard and foot-ball shapes for us two.
And for Dad, tongs to use on the new barbeque.

A mysterious package he left for our mum,
Then turned and he winked and he held up his thumb;
He strolled out on the deck and his 'roos came on cue;
Flung his sack in the back and prepared to shoot through.

He bellowed out loud as they swooped past the gates –
'Merry Christmas to all, and goodonya, mates!

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Question of the Week

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Today is October 25, 2016

In this month in 1987:

The Southern California Kerry breeder, Ray Perry, was murdered on his way back from a dog show.

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