Posted in poetry

The Santa Claus

This is a wee poem I wrote in 2016, it was inspired by this tweet by the Scottish poetry library; https://twitter.com/ByLeavesWeLive/status/799618192960266240

and was a freeflow response to the tweet, unfortunately I couldn’t tweet it without breaking the 140 character rule, so I scribbled it down and then posted it on my Facebook to share with friends, as a bit of fun.

Also, I should add, it was also inspired by a true story.

I saw Santa staggerin’ doon the street.

He was shouting an’ swearing & making weans greet.

The things he was saying, Were nasty an’ crude,

He was really quite obnoxious, an’ extremely rude.

In his hand was a bottle of Bucci,

Which he waved about, wi a shout of,

” come an’ have go If ye think yer, lucky!

Ma names Santa, an’ a don’t care!!

come on an’ sit on ma lap if ye dare!!

If yer naughty, I’ll gi yer arse a wee slap

If yer good, I’ll take ye back ti ma flat”

Over his arm was a Tescos bag.

Filled wi cans of cider, and a carton of fags.

Which he raise ceremoniously, telling all,

“iv got ma swag!”

His red tracksuit was dirty and covered in stains

His beard, long an’ mangled, with food remains…

His hat tho torn flashed With l.e.d lights

As he sang jingle bells with all his might

by his staggering dance, I admit all were entranced

As he swayed about singing as he pranced

Yes a strange Santa Claus, at whom everyone stared.

Cos, it’s not what you expect to see,

on a July afternoon, in the town of Ayr.!

Author:

I have a keen interest in The Arts as therapy, and as a fundamental tool for understanding, and managing mental health. I love nature, reading, writing, poetry, photography, movies, painting, dance and yoga. And have a keen interest in social issues & humanities.

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