08 December 2005

‘Twas the night before Christmas - by Squinter


Squinter takes a festive look at the original Christmas rhyme and gives it a twist, West Belfast style

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

But out in the driveway a baseball-capped hood
Was stood by my car and up to no good.

A screwdriver he placed in the lock of the Ford
And in no time at all the engine had roared.

The children who should have been snug in their beds
Were necking the cider and out of their heads.

While I tried to take a nice winter’s nap
The smicks at the corner put on gangsta rap.

So I jumped in a black hack and went to see Pete,
A cousin of mine who lives off Albert Street.

The driver was smoking so I sat in the back
When suddenly I felt a tremendous big whack.

The fella behind us had braked far too late
By the look of him he’d had a few over the eight.

The women beside me in jammies and slippers
Gave me the name of their lawyer, ‘he’s great with the whippers.’

I started to walk, it was cold but quite fine
Then nipped into the boozer for a glass of mulled wine.
Inside was a typical Christmas pub scene
The beep and the buzz of the poker machine

The juke box playing a Cliff Richard song
With four drunken pool players singing along.

I drank up for I knew I’d a long way to go
And hadn’t got far when it started to snow.

My face was soon frozen, my two feet quite numb
When before me appeared a young girl and her chum.

‘Hi mister,’ she said, ‘could you give us a light?’
And under that streetlamp I got quite a fright.

Her face was bright orange, her hands they were blue
And on the back of the right one was an ‘Anto’ tattoo.

I muttered ‘no, sorry’ and went on my way
And her chum said she thought I was definitely gay.

A roar and a blur and I dived to the right
As a kid on a quad emerged from the night.

Now wet and dirty and thoroughly depressed
Cursing my luck and clearly distressed

I turned the next corner and what did I find
But a gang of street drinkers with mischief in mind.

Blue bags, blue bottles and boxes of beer
Those boozers perked up when they saw me appear.

I thought it best to cross over the street
When they all crossed too I went white as a sheet.

I took to my heels with the smicks on my tail
And soon was caught up by the gang’s alpha male.

He jumped on my back and we fell in the snow
And as I struggled I thought, what a cat way to go.

But suddenly I spied a big white Land Rover
And as quick as it started the trouble was over.

The top Trevor asked if I wanted a lift
As he picked me out of that chilly snowdrift.

I said I was grateful that he’d helped me out
But I don’t want the neighbours to call me a tout.

So I pulled out my mobile to phone up a cab
But I’d used all my credit on too much oul’ gab.

Then what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Santa, a sleigh and eight big reindeer.

As Santa stroked Rudolf and petted his fur
Big Trevor asked, is this your vehicle sir?

Poor Santa looked kind of resigned to his fate
When Trevor discovered his tax out of date.

And St Nicholas tested the big cop’s endurance
When he said he’d forgotten to renew his insurance.

And then for the kids Christmas died a sad death
When the coppers smelt Smirnoff upon Santa’s breath.

As Santa was thrown in the back of the Jeep
With his beard all atremble he started to weep.

And I heard him exclaim as he looked back at me
‘Collusion’s not an illusion and SS RUC!’

I trudged home in anger with thoughts dark and dire
Got changed and then took my old seat by the fire.

I made a hot whiskey with lemon and lime
And watched Home Alone for the 48th time.

And as midnight Mass bells pealed soft in the night
I nodded off thinking that Christmas is shite.

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