The Gaffer an’ Christmas

 

They’re tellin’ the childer far too arly
The truth about oul’ Santa Claus.
Tho’ it’s hard to say these days because
The childer is as oul’ as oul’ MacKilley,
An’ know far moore till their elders –
Aw, so proud that they can carry barley,
An’ so full up with their own importance
That ye long to take an’ spank them;
Tho’ the fault is not the childers’
But the parents’, for they fill ye
With a kind of desperation,
For they navar show the leas’ consideration
For the feelin’s of the res’;
An’ so I’m sayin’ for all the modern mess,
‘Deed, an’ it’s the parents – we can thank them!

But it takes all surts, we know,
For to make the roun’ worl’ go,
An’ theer’s some tha’s not as bad as others.
I’m mindin’ now the boghned of the brothers
[What did we call them? The Wobblewitted Whartons!]
They had an argiment on Christmas Eve
About what Santa Claus might leave?;
An’ wan was sayin’
He’d lek a train,
Another wan an aeroplane;
But Jorn the aldes’ kep’ repeatin’
That no such wan as Santa Claus was in,
An’ all it was the shops creatin’
A birra business for themselves,
An’ when the lil govags seen
The toys an’ games an’ books upon the shelves
They pestered maas an’ daas
They moidthered uncles an’ aunts,
They coaxed their grandas an’ theer grandmas too,
Who all sez, “Sen’ thee wants
To Father Christmas or to Santa Claus,
An’ he’ll know what to do!”

Now Jorn, he had a middlin’ powerful v’ice,
So it will come, good folks as no surprise
When I tell thee he was h’ard,
Avary single shouted word,
By the vary wan who, late on Christmas Eve
Would make his roun’s when boys were fas’ asleep,
An’ vary quiet creep,
An’ in theer stockin’s leave
[An’ in oul’ pillow cases too, as I’ve har’rd tell]
The gif’s they hoped to see,
If all was well,
When they woke up arly the nex’ mornin’ full of glee.
So Jorn persuaded them theer was no cause
To go on trussin’ in oul’ Santa Claus;
An’ to prove that he was right
They would ax that vary night
For somethin’ that would suit three little girls.
An’ he said, “A doll with curls
Would be just the very thing for Dick;
An’ a box of needle an’ thread
Would be nice for lil Fred,
An’ would give them occupation
If they had to take to bed,
Any time that they were feelin’ sick.”
As for Jorn, he’d have his recreation
Walkin’ out in high-heeled shoes,
Which is what himself was goin’ to choose?

Well, theer’s no need to go on.
Thou can guess what come to pass
When the Day itself arrived at las’.
An’ they woke on Christmas morn
An’ they seen the prasants that was waitin’ theer –
A pair of fancy high-heeled shoes
A curly-headed blue-eyed doll,
A box of cotton reels an’ all the res’ –
I suppose it wasn’ really feer on the boys, but that was all
They got that Christmas; an’ norra bit of use
Complainin’ to theer Maa or to theer Daa,
For they were not supposed to know
About the argifyin’ theer was at them. So
They tuk good keer
The vary nex’ year,
They’d ax for proper things, because
They dursn’t play no tricks with Santa Claus!

Mona’s Herald 29.12.71