‘Twas the night before Christmas – farming style

My mate, Anna Hill, penned this poem the day she delivered me to the airport, last week.

Now I would like to lay claim that it was our talk of farming that twigged her flurry of creativity, but alas, I think that might be taking too much credit!

This version of ‘The Night Before Christmas’ (which incidentally is one of my favourites from childhood) made me giggle so much, that I needed to share it with you.

Oh and if you would like to follow her on Twitter, feel free to do so at @anecdotal_anna


‘Twas the night before Christmas
The kids were in bed
Not a creature was stirring
Not even the sheep by the shed

The barley sacks were hung
By the aircon with care
In the hopes that Santa
Would leave something there

The Missus and I sat back
On the porch
Playing spot the possum
By the light of a torch

When out in the dust
There arose such a ruckus
We thought it was Gus
one of the local truckers

But to our total surprise
Up the track trudged a man
With a bounty of toys
And some VB cans

He winked as he walked
Into the house
Careful not to disturb
A cheeky mouse

To the sacks he delivered
A bounty of goods
To keep the kids happy
For as long as they could

Then humming so softly to himself
He passed us by once again
Only to vanish
From whence he came

Across the still land
His parting words came
“Merry Christmas to you all,
and to you all good rain”.


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