Twas the night before the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The presents had been hidden by Mum with great care,
Knowing the children would search everywhere.
We children should have been snug in our beds,
But visions of wrapped treasures danced in our heads.
We’d requested so much, sitting on Santa’s lap,
Operation and Twister and not too much crap.
I woke up my sister with quite a loud clatter,
She was so cranky; asked, ‘What the hell’s the matter?’
It’s time,’ I did say, ‘We must find all the stash,
‘Of Walkmans and Rubik’s and shedloads of cash.’
‘Get up, shake a leg, we really should go,
To find what’s been bought for us, I just have to know.’
‘For god’s sake, not this again,’ said my sister dear,
‘Must we really go through all this bull every year?’
We pulled on our slippers and left lickety-split,
Knowing our searching must be done real quick.
Through each room of the house we delved with great aim,
Hunting for labels inscribed with our names.
We searched in the lounge, in the hallway and kitchen,
Sister dawdled behind, moaning and bitchin’.
Then finally the spare room offered up a great haul,
On top of the wardrobe were presents – yes, them all!
But the wardrobe was massive, stretching up 8 foot high,
‘Stuff that,’ said my sister, ‘We can kiss them goodbye.’
But I wouldn’t give up now we’d had our breakthrough,
I pulled forward the bookcase: as steps it would do.
I climbed up the shelves with the rashness of youth,
Leapt onto the wardrobe for the moment of truth.
Pulled open the sack, eager for what I had found,
Sister yelled,‘Oy! Pull me up, stop messing around.’
Climbing onto the shelves, sister followed my route,
Puffing and huffing, I hauled her up to the loot.
Presents in paper and ribbon filled up a great sack,
With trembling fingers, we peeled the wrappings back.
Caution did go and we were no longer wary,
Ripping open boxes, things got rather merry.
Kerplunk, Simon Says and Etch-a-Sketchers to go,
Space hoppers, Jackie annuals; we couldn’t say no.
Unveiling a TV, sister leapt in disbelief,
Sending presents flying to the ground down beneath.
Flailing in shock, sister banged into my belly,
I stumbled and wobbled, grabbed onto the telly.
Crashed over the edge, hit the deck – telly and self,
It smashed into great pieces: the end of our wealth!
The wardrobe did sway and fell onto the bed,
Sister trapped behind the wardrobe – possibly dead.
I jumped off the floor and ran out with a smirk,
Left sister alone, screaming in rage and in irk.
Mum ran in, saw the damage and so did explode,
(I was tucked up in bed, pretending to doze.)
Sister freed from her trap, how she did bristle,
Raced into my room and attacked like a missile.
But I heard her exclaim, as she put up a fight,
‘Happy Christmas?? No way – you’re in trouble tonight!’
Thank you to everyone who left comments on my entry to the Expats competition. I’ll let you know how I intend to spend the prize money…