On Boxing Day Santa stayed in bed
‘I’m too tired today,’ he said.
The elves cleared up, all muttering,
‘Too tired, too fat, that’s the thing.’
When Santa emerged, the jobs were done
The stables tidy, the sledge just shone.
‘Well done, lads, your work’s been noted
From today you’re all promoted.
‘A holiday is our greatest need
A cruise round the Med. Should not impede
On the preparations for next year,
What do you say? Come give a cheer.’
The cheer was feeble, ‘Whoa,’ he said
‘I thought you’d be pleased, delighted.’
‘Too much food we’ll all get fat.’
‘Well what’s so dreadful about that?
Father Christmas should be merry and stout
If I was thin the children would shout,
‘He’s not the real one, an imposter,’
I must dine well on salmon and lobster.’
‘There’s something here that’s very fishy,’
Said an elf, ‘but our choices are iffy.
We have to agree to go on this jaunt,
As he is paying, I suppose we ought.’
They flew by jumbo to Barcelona
Santa disguised, a new persona.
They trimmed and dyed his hair and beard
With jeans and T shirt, Santa’d disappeared.
On board the ship they found Santa’s suite
It was truly sumptuous, ‘This is a treat!
‘Go find your rooms, I’ll see you later.’
He found the buffet and had a taster.
The elves had bunk beds, squeezed in tight
Down near the engines that whirred all night.
They grumbled, whinged, but not to their master,
Who was happily indulging his passion for pasta.
They sailed away, Italy bound
Pizza, more pasta, restaurants were found.
And so it went on at every port
Not famous sights, but food he sought.
Santa was glad he’d become anonymous
Because he resembled a hippopotamus.
On the jumbo he needed not one seat but two.
‘Oh dear,’ said Santa, ‘this really won’t do.
I’ve eaten unwisely, a glutton no doubt.
I’m not just portly I’m now really stout,
My elves you must help me to diet, I think,
It’s time my body was persuaded to shrink.’
So, he ate like an elf for months ‘till September,
He’d exercised more than he could remember
Then stood on the scales, smiled, said, ‘Ho, Ho, Ho
I feel really fit now I’m ready to go.’
He shopped for presents, the latest gizmos
He sang as he stacked them, rows upon rows.
‘Next year I’ll be wiser, no cruising for me
A walking holiday, away from the sea.’
The elves all agreed but with scepticism
Not daring to utter words of criticism.
‘He’ll eat all the mince pies the children leave,
Be tubby again, after Christmas Eve.’