The  Post
Christmas  Poetry  Competition   2006

Santa got a nippy,

Whilst driving down our street,

He must be mad,

To drive that fast,

In all that snow and sleet.

Santa's an expert driver,

He's never had a crash,

He's done the crime,

He'll do the time,

And pay the fine in cash.

But Santa's got no licence,

And his sleigh no MOT,

'He's bad,' the judge thought,

And summoned him to court,

So the judge, Santa went to see.

So in the dock stood Santa,

With his head bowed to the ground,

He need not have worried,

Cause in came, in a hurry,

His brief, Rudolph the reindeer, did bound.

'Your Honour, at the time in question,

He was flying through the air,

So he's obviously

Not guilty,

As there's no speed limit up there.

The judge took Santa's nippy,

And threw it in the bin,

'Collect your sack

And don't come back.'

On Santa's face, a grin.

So Santa went a-flyin'

With Rudolph in the lead,

'Who's that up there

Flying without due care?'

Said the man from the Aviation Authority.

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