A Rusty Old Ute And 8 Mighty Roos…

Gidday peeps! Hope you’ve all had a fab Christmas (or however you celebrate). I’ve been lounging around, drinking champers and out and about swotting up on a bit of history (but not all at once you understand).

With Christmas done but still a week left on holiday, I’ve got quite a list of things ‘to do’ but decided to open up my emails this morning to see what the world at large had been up to.

Amongst the post Christmas/Boxing Day and End of Year sales (with even more discounts), there were a couple of missives from Mum. And in response to my last post, she had received an Aussie rendition of Twas the Night Before Christmas so before we say our final farewells to the little dude’s official birthday celebrations, here’s one more post Chrissy post script for you to enjoy Oz style.

It’s a bewdy!

‘Twas 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 Utepulled 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 plate full of jelly.

A fat stack of prezzies he flung from his back,
And he 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 footy-ball shapes for us two.
And for Dad, tongs to use on the new barbeque.
A mysterious package he left for our Mum,
Then he turned and he winked and he held up his thumb;

He strolled out on 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!’

A Visit From St Nicholas…

Well my The Nutcracker Advent Calender is empty and all the little storybooks are lined up below it so this can only mean one thing – it’s Christmas Eve and Santa Claus, Father Christmas, St Nicholas, Sinterklaas or however you know him, has packed up his sleigh and is on his way.
Source: pinterest
This morning I picked up my Top 500 Poems to see what had been penned about Christmas many years ago and in scanning the table of contents, one titled ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’ seemed appropriate. Imagine my surprise when I turned to page 475 and read the first line – ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house’.  
A Visit from St Nicholas was written in 1822 by Clement Clarke Moore, a professor of religion in New York. He refused to have it published, but a friend sent it to an out of town newspaper where it was published – anonymously – in time for Christmas 1823. Moore eventually included it in his collected works 15 years later but continued to maintain that it was a ‘mere trifle’

Every festive season since I was ‘knee high to a grasshopper’, my head has been filled with little snippets like ’twas the night before Christmas’, ‘a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer’ and those famous reindeer names – Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, ‘Donna’ and Blitzen.

This mere trifle has continued to shape the excitement and anticipation of Christmas Eve for children (big and small) the world over so it seems a fitting finale to this year’s Gidday Christmas Countdown. So I leave you to embrace the child within and wish you all the very best of everything your heart desires this Christmas.

Kym x
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A Visit from St. Nicholas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief’, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to the objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
Illustration by F.O.C. Darley at about.com
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedlar just opening his pack.
His eyes – how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of his pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of an eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
~ Clement Clarke Moore 1779-1863 ~