“Get outside, hang the lights round the chimney with care,
Get it done! Hurry up, before Nicholas gets there!”
The children are no help all sleeping in bed,
No visions of sugar plums, but iPads instead.
While Mama dictates I put on a cap
I slip on my boots and a coat with two snaps.
I opened the door and stepped in a puddle.
Then slipped on the lawn and now I see double.
My wife’s in the window, she doubles and laughs,
I staggered and tumbled, tripped over the trash.
My keys pierce my breast, as I’ve fallen you know.
The wind how it blusters, then swirls and blows.
My eyes start to water, some would say tear,
I’ve fallen on Rudolf and other reindeers.
I’m a little old mind you, but lively and quick,
I’m up in a moment all covered in sh…shtuff?
The poop from a beagle had made a large stain.
And I yelled and I shouted and called it bad names.
Doggone it, dangblasted that dog of the Nixons!
Uncommon, dumb stupid, ah darn it I’m freezin’.
I hobble to the porch, then lean against the wall,
Ah-choo-a, ah-choo-a, I sneeze, almost fall.
“Change to dry clothes! You’ll catch a cold and die!”
My wife how she shouted. Her voice how it flys.
So into the house, off trousers and boots,
My coat with two snaps all covered in poop.
And then in a twinkling I knew what to do,
For hanging and dangling of lights from my roof.
I’d wear tightie whities that’s all that I’d wear!
Outside on the ladder I just didn’t care.
It’s only tightie whities on my birthday suit,
As I climbed up the ladder midst laughter and hoots.
‘Twas the neighbor named Floyd who lives just out back.
“Hey Santa!” he said “Where’s your clothes and your sack?”
My eyes they were stinging, the rain made them blurry.
My cheeks were like roses, my nose like a cherry.
My fingers were freezing, my toes were so cold.
As I worked from the ladder, hang lights, as I’m told.
The ring of a hook I held tight in my teeth.
My hands worked the cord, the lights and the wreath.
I hold tight to the ladder with my face and my belly.
The ladder it shakes! It’s my wife and she’s yelling.
“Hey chubby! Two lights, both match, you need help?”
And I laughed as yelled, “A go #%*%#€ yourself!”
With the blink of an eye I’ve set the screw head.
Hang green lights together, her anger I dread.
She spoke not a word, didn’t go berserk.
Then I climbed down the ladder, “I’m finished work!”
Then laying her fist aside of my nose,
It felt rather odd, then my face met my toes.
I then sprang to my feet, gave Floyd a whistle.
We hopped in the car, drove to town ore the trestle.
And I heard her exclaim as we drove out of sight,
“Two green lights together, together green lights!”
PS. #%*%#€ spells bite kids. It’s an old ancient spelling.
— Bob Niles
Bob Niles, who answers to Robert, Bobby, Dad, Grandpa, Unit No.2 (his Dad could never remember all the children’s names), honey and super hero, is new to writing but not to storytelling. “I like to make people laugh and to think, with a secret desire make them dance and send me untraceable $100 bills in the mail,” says the happily married, retired father and grandpa from Richmond in British Columbia, Canada. He blogs here.