(a verse from when I spent Xmas in Malta)
It’s the night before Christmas in a new place for me
The midst of the Mediterranean sea
On an island called Malta I wrote this anew
And thanks to the Internet, ’twill get back to you
It’s now getting dark and we’re both in good cheer
Having hung up our stockings and opened a beer
One thing we had wondered in this faraway place
Would Santa come visit on his Christmas eve race?
No sooner had I written a verse for the day
Than I heard a loud rumble beside our hallway
I saw no one there, so I thought that the sound
Had arisen from something that fell to the ground
Then I heard it again and walked over to see
Was it something for real or was it just me?
And then I discovered, I wasn’t confused
The sounds were emerging where I kept shoes
I opened the door of that small storage place
To find it had gifts filling much of the space
When a man dressed in red stepped out of the clutter
I knew it was Santa, my heart all aflutter
I asked him whatever was he doing in there
And he said, ”There’s no place to put gifts anywhere”
It is true, I’d discovered here with the Maltese
In this soil you can’t plant and grow Christmas trees
“But my goodness,” I exclaimed to this jolly old guy
“Putting gifts in a storage room, please tell me why”
With this, old St. Nick with his skin very wrinkly
Got a gleam in his eyes – they looked very twinkly
And little did I know – his answer was one
That was gonna conclude with a terrible pun
Santa said, “What you call a small storage room”
“That space you keep footwear, a mop, and a broom”
“Is quite different to me. It’s a place to deposit”
“The gifts that I brought you. A big Santa closet”
And with that, the big guy, all covered in snow
Shook the room with the loudest of, “Ho, Ho, Ho, Ho’s”
We thank you dear Santa for the gifts nicely wrapped
But thanks most of all for that big Christmas laugh
And a last thing I’m sending out here from the sea
Merry Christmas from Malta and Indira and me
0 Comments