Ah, the night before Christmas, when good old St Nick himself flies through the sky with a team of reindeer, delivering happiness and seasons blessings to all. Or does he? Here’s my retelling of the poem by Clement Clarke Moore, Father Christmas is a little less than jolly as he battles to get the gifts delivered…
‘Twas The Night Before Christmas by G Clark Hellery
‘Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the house
Something was stirring
And it wasn’t a mouse
The children were tucked up
Their stockings hung with care
While the ghosts and the ghouls
Slithered from their lair
The children all snuggled
Asleep in their beds
Whilst ghostly visions of the deceased
Danced above their heads
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
A roar from outside caused the windows to shatter
Krampus stamped across the lawn
Dropped his sack, stretched, and did a big yawn
In the garden shed, there was a big crash
As goblins grabbed tools to stab, hack and slash
The moon gleaned off of the new fallen snow
Highlighting the splashes of blood down below
My terrified eyes were drawn to the patter
Caused by green-skinned gremlins as they hurriedly scattered
I dared not guess who else may appear
But was shocked to see a sleigh and eight snorting reindeer
Who was this little man, who opened his knife with a flick?
The beard! The sack! The axe! It must be St Nick!
More rapid than eagles, the demons, they came
But St Nick was shrewd, he knew them by name
‘Now Slasher! Now Chancer! Now Masher and Vixen!
Come on Comet! On Putrid! On Gnasher and Blitz’em!
From the top of the porch to the top of the wall
St Nick, and his reindeer they took on them all.
Seeing old Krampus climbing up high,
Santa flicked his whip let out a sigh
Up to the rooftop, the reindeer they flew
A sleigh full of weapons, and St Nicholas too.
And then, sounds of fighting, up on the roof
A shout! A yell! A stamping of cloven hoof!
A dreadful noise, of slithering, sliding caused me to turn around
In tumbled St Nick, followed by Krampus with a bound.
The demons fur was matted, bloody from his head to his foot
St Nick slowly stood, the gore from his hands he shook.
A bundle of weapons, his axe slung across his back,
But it was a bow and arrows, he pulled from his sack.
His eyes, how they twinkled, he looked almost merry
While Krampus feigned nonchalance, eating a cherry
But as Santa raised to his cheek, an arrow nocked in the bow
How wide Krampus’ eyes did grow.
A spare arrow Santa held, tight in his teeth
While Krampus pulled a sword from its sheath
They faced off: Krampus a wound to his belly
St Nick swayed, his legs feeling like jelly
His face torn and bloody, not a jolly old elf
And I shuddered when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
Loosed his arrow, hitting Krampus with a jerk,
Each with a roar they began trading blows
St Nick was down! But quickly he rose
Threw his axe: through the air, it flew with a whistle
Struck Krampus ‘tween the eyes, his fur started to fizzle
He burst into flames, then disappeared in a bright light,
As St Nick cheered,
‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!’