Christmas/Holiday Thread
- Thread starter rosylady
- Start date
Snoopy's Christmas
The news had come out in the First World War
The bloody Red Baron was flying once more
The Allied command ignored all of its men
And called on Snoopy to do it again.
Was the night before Christmas, 40 below
When Snoopy went up in search of his foe
He spied the Red Baron, fiercely they fought
With ice on his wings Snoopy knew he was caught.
Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ring out from the land
Asking peace of all the world
And good will to man
The Baron had Snoopy dead in his sights
He reached for the trigger to pull it up tight
Why he didn't shoot, well, we'll never know
Or was it the bells from the village below.
Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world
And good will to man
The Baron made Snoopy fly to the Rhine
And forced him to land behind the enemy lines
Snoopy was certain that this was the end
When the Baron cried out, "Merry Christmas, my friend"
The Baron then offered a holiday toast
And Snoopy, our hero, saluted his host
And then with a roar they were both on their way
Each knowing they'd meet on some other day.
Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world
And good will to man
The news had come out in the First World War
The bloody Red Baron was flying once more
The Allied command ignored all of its men
And called on Snoopy to do it again.
Was the night before Christmas, 40 below
When Snoopy went up in search of his foe
He spied the Red Baron, fiercely they fought
With ice on his wings Snoopy knew he was caught.
Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ring out from the land
Asking peace of all the world
And good will to man
The Baron had Snoopy dead in his sights
He reached for the trigger to pull it up tight
Why he didn't shoot, well, we'll never know
Or was it the bells from the village below.
Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world
And good will to man
The Baron made Snoopy fly to the Rhine
And forced him to land behind the enemy lines
Snoopy was certain that this was the end
When the Baron cried out, "Merry Christmas, my friend"
The Baron then offered a holiday toast
And Snoopy, our hero, saluted his host
And then with a roar they were both on their way
Each knowing they'd meet on some other day.
Christmas bells those Christmas bells
Ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world
And good will to man
1sexylady
Queen Braticia..........
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2002
- Posts
- 20,356
Bug Eyed Monster said:If you don't know, then I'm not telling.
Bigbear8, I love the poetry. Too funny.
Ok, yes 1sl it was me. My disguise worked perfectly.
Mmmmmmm I know....
Love you Buggy..
Biggbear8... I agree with Buggy... I love your poetry...
biggbear8
heart and soul
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2002
- Posts
- 14,049
1sexxylady
thx you sweetheart but as i told bugeyed monster i cant take credit for those in the thread i didnt write them i got them from a christmas site and they were done by an unknown person
but i have my poems that i wrote just click on my like and it well take u to them
i am going to post a couple more tonight.
so please read my poems and vote for them thank you.
and hugs and kisses sexylady
thx you sweetheart but as i told bugeyed monster i cant take credit for those in the thread i didnt write them i got them from a christmas site and they were done by an unknown person
but i have my poems that i wrote just click on my like and it well take u to them
i am going to post a couple more tonight.
so please read my poems and vote for them thank you.
and hugs and kisses sexylady
SexyLadyISO
Virgin
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2002
- Posts
- 12
Favorite Memory
spending time with a cousin several years ago at Xmas. Hadn't seen him in a longtime and I'll never forget that Xmas.
spending time with a cousin several years ago at Xmas. Hadn't seen him in a longtime and I'll never forget that Xmas.
Frosty The Snowman
Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul
With a corncob pipe and a button nose
and two eyes made out of coal
Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say
He was made of snow but the children
know how he came to life one day
There must have been some magic in that
old silk hat they found
For when they placed it on his head
he began to dance around
O
Frosty the snowman
was alive as he could be
And the children say he could laugh
and play just the same as you and me
Thumpetty thump thump
thumpety thump thump
Look at Frosty go
Thumpetty thump thump
thumpety thump thump
Over the hills of snow
Frosty the snowman knew
the sun was hot that day
So he said
"Let's run and
we'll have some fun
now before I melt away
" Down to the village
with a broomstick in his hand
Running here and there all
around the square saying
Catch me if you can
He led them down the streets of town
right to the traffic cop
And he only paused a moment when
he heard him holler "Stop!"
For Frosty the snow man
had to hurry on his way
But he waved goodbye saying
"Don't you cry
I'll be back again some day
" Thumpetty thump thump
thumpety thump thump
Look at Frosty go
Thumpetty thump thump
thumpety thump thump
Over the hills of snow
Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul
With a corncob pipe and a button nose
and two eyes made out of coal
Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say
He was made of snow but the children
know how he came to life one day
There must have been some magic in that
old silk hat they found
For when they placed it on his head
he began to dance around
O
Frosty the snowman
was alive as he could be
And the children say he could laugh
and play just the same as you and me
Thumpetty thump thump
thumpety thump thump
Look at Frosty go
Thumpetty thump thump
thumpety thump thump
Over the hills of snow
Frosty the snowman knew
the sun was hot that day
So he said
"Let's run and
we'll have some fun
now before I melt away
" Down to the village
with a broomstick in his hand
Running here and there all
around the square saying
Catch me if you can
He led them down the streets of town
right to the traffic cop
And he only paused a moment when
he heard him holler "Stop!"
For Frosty the snow man
had to hurry on his way
But he waved goodbye saying
"Don't you cry
I'll be back again some day
" Thumpetty thump thump
thumpety thump thump
Look at Frosty go
Thumpetty thump thump
thumpety thump thump
Over the hills of snow
Twas the Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat
The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner and poor momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite.
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts.
Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
"That was some brothel," he said with a smile,
"The reindeer are pooped, and I'll just stay here awhile.
He walked to the kitchen, himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find,
And a six pair of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several other things that I shouldn't even mention.
A cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
A dildo so long, it lay in a coil.
"This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I'll leave 'em here, and then I'll just split."
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug tucked under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took the reins of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home Rudolph, this night's been a bitch!"
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!"
'Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat
The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner and poor momma went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite.
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts.
Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
"That was some brothel," he said with a smile,
"The reindeer are pooped, and I'll just stay here awhile.
He walked to the kitchen, himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find,
And a six pair of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several other things that I shouldn't even mention.
A cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
A dildo so long, it lay in a coil.
"This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I'll leave 'em here, and then I'll just split."
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug tucked under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took the reins of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home Rudolph, this night's been a bitch!"
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!"
emerald_a
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Sep 26, 2002
- Posts
- 231
Christmas..........oh yeahhhh...
Well all....Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year although I guess this one will be a little diffrent. It will be a little lonlier as my one and only child...my daughter won't be here. Jeez I hate it when they grow up!! It will be her first ever away from home but I guess at 19 its expected!! LOL I have decided instead to throw an open house for all of those singles out there with nowhere to go...This way I still get to indulge myself in the entertaining part anyway and hopefully I can help bring a lot of wonderful people togeather to share in the love and warmth of the season.
My favorite Christmas song....ummmmmmm I'm not sure of the name but it is a song about soldiers singing silent night across the battlefield. Done by Garth Brooks. I cry everytime I hear it.
Well all....Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year although I guess this one will be a little diffrent. It will be a little lonlier as my one and only child...my daughter won't be here. Jeez I hate it when they grow up!! It will be her first ever away from home but I guess at 19 its expected!! LOL I have decided instead to throw an open house for all of those singles out there with nowhere to go...This way I still get to indulge myself in the entertaining part anyway and hopefully I can help bring a lot of wonderful people togeather to share in the love and warmth of the season.
My favorite Christmas song....ummmmmmm I'm not sure of the name but it is a song about soldiers singing silent night across the battlefield. Done by Garth Brooks. I cry everytime I hear it.
Bug Eyed Monster
1Sexy's Bug
- Joined
- Apr 9, 2002
- Posts
- 3,698
One Solitary life
to 1sl and rosylady.
Now I had been wanting to post this for a while. I don't know who wrote it and I am quoting it from the Rockette's Christmas program from last year.
1sexylady said:Mmmmmmm I know....
to 1sl and rosylady.Now I had been wanting to post this for a while. I don't know who wrote it and I am quoting it from the Rockette's Christmas program from last year.
whspr
Time for a Change
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2002
- Posts
- 11,879
Today I sponsered a child who has noone to buy them presents from Santa...
This song reminds of how delicate a child can be...and it touches my heart deeply....
Keith Toby - Christmas To Christmas - Santa I'm Right Here lyrics:
(Ron Reynolds)
I was downtown Christmas shopping
Such a busy city street
I don't know how I noticed the piece of paper at my feet
But somethin' made me pick it up, instead of goin' on my way
I stopped and froze right in my tracks
As I read what it had to say
Oh Santa, if you can't find me
We're livin' out here on the street
But I’ll be watchin' for you, you're not gonna forget me, are you
Daddy says he knows you'll try
But we might be too hard to find this year
Oh Santa, I’m right here
It said, we don't have our house no more, I wish we could go home
Mama says we will some day and she prays it won't be long
But they closed daddy's factory and took most of our things
Now Santa, I don't need to much, so this year could you bring
Bring my mom a coat that's warm, 'cause the one she's got is awful torn
Maybe dad could help you work, makin' toys for boys and girls
Oh Santa, if you can't find me
We're livin' out here on the street
But I’ll be watchin' for you, you're not gonna forget me, are you
Daddy says he knows you'll try
But we might be too hard to find this year
Oh Santa, I’m right here
I'm right here
I'm right here
This song reminds of how delicate a child can be...and it touches my heart deeply....
Keith Toby - Christmas To Christmas - Santa I'm Right Here lyrics:
(Ron Reynolds)
I was downtown Christmas shopping
Such a busy city street
I don't know how I noticed the piece of paper at my feet
But somethin' made me pick it up, instead of goin' on my way
I stopped and froze right in my tracks
As I read what it had to say
Oh Santa, if you can't find me
We're livin' out here on the street
But I’ll be watchin' for you, you're not gonna forget me, are you
Daddy says he knows you'll try
But we might be too hard to find this year
Oh Santa, I’m right here
It said, we don't have our house no more, I wish we could go home
Mama says we will some day and she prays it won't be long
But they closed daddy's factory and took most of our things
Now Santa, I don't need to much, so this year could you bring
Bring my mom a coat that's warm, 'cause the one she's got is awful torn
Maybe dad could help you work, makin' toys for boys and girls
Oh Santa, if you can't find me
We're livin' out here on the street
But I’ll be watchin' for you, you're not gonna forget me, are you
Daddy says he knows you'll try
But we might be too hard to find this year
Oh Santa, I’m right here
I'm right here
I'm right here
http://www.jsmagic.net/xmasgraphicsbells/img6.gif
Jingle Bells
Dashing through the snow
In a one-horse open sleigh
Through the fields we go
Laughing all the way.
Bells on bob-tail ring
Making spirits bright
What fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight.
chorus: Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh, O
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh.
A day or two ago
I thought I'd take a ride
And soon Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side;
The horse was lean and lank
Misfortune seemed his lot,
We ran into a drifted bank
And there we got upsot.
A day or two ago
The story I must tell
I went out on the snow
And on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by
In a one-horse open sleigh
He laughed at me as
I there sprawling laid
But quickly drove away.
Now the ground is white,
Go it while you're young,
Take the girls along
And sing this sleighing song.
Just bet a bob-tailed bay,
Two-forty as his speed,
Hitch him to an open sleigh
and crack! You'll take the lead.
http://www.jsmagic.net/xmasgraphicsbells/img7.gif
Jingle Bells
Dashing through the snow
In a one-horse open sleigh
Through the fields we go
Laughing all the way.
Bells on bob-tail ring
Making spirits bright
What fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight.
chorus: Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh, O
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh.
A day or two ago
I thought I'd take a ride
And soon Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side;
The horse was lean and lank
Misfortune seemed his lot,
We ran into a drifted bank
And there we got upsot.
A day or two ago
The story I must tell
I went out on the snow
And on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by
In a one-horse open sleigh
He laughed at me as
I there sprawling laid
But quickly drove away.
Now the ground is white,
Go it while you're young,
Take the girls along
And sing this sleighing song.
Just bet a bob-tailed bay,
Two-forty as his speed,
Hitch him to an open sleigh
and crack! You'll take the lead.
http://www.jsmagic.net/xmasgraphicsbells/img7.gif
I almost never post here on the Playground, I'm almost always on the GB, but I just wanted to put my fav x-mas song on here, because I think it's a really wonderful song. It's called "Belleau Woods" and sung by Garth Brooks.
Oh, the snowflakes fell in silence
Over Belleau Wood that night
For a Christmas truce had been declared
By both sides of the fight
As we lay there in our trenches
The silence broke in two
By a German soldier singing
A song that we all knew
Though I did not know the language
The song was 'Silent Night'
Then I heard my buddy whisper,
'All is calm and all is bright'
Then the fear and doubt surrounded me
'Cause I'd die if I was wrong
But I stood up on my trench
And I began to sing along
Then across the frozen battlefield
Another's voice joined in
Until one by one each man became
A singer of the hymn
Then I thought that I was dreaming
For right there in my sight
Stood the German soldier
'Neath the falling flakes of white
And he raised his hand and smiled at me
As if he seemed to say
Here's hoping we both live
To see us find a better way
Then the devil's clock struck midnight
And the skies lit up again
And the battlefield where heaven stood
Was blown to hell again
But for just one fleeting moment
The answer seemed so clear
Heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's just beyond the fear
No' heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's for us to find it here
Oh, the snowflakes fell in silence
Over Belleau Wood that night
For a Christmas truce had been declared
By both sides of the fight
As we lay there in our trenches
The silence broke in two
By a German soldier singing
A song that we all knew
Though I did not know the language
The song was 'Silent Night'
Then I heard my buddy whisper,
'All is calm and all is bright'
Then the fear and doubt surrounded me
'Cause I'd die if I was wrong
But I stood up on my trench
And I began to sing along
Then across the frozen battlefield
Another's voice joined in
Until one by one each man became
A singer of the hymn
Then I thought that I was dreaming
For right there in my sight
Stood the German soldier
'Neath the falling flakes of white
And he raised his hand and smiled at me
As if he seemed to say
Here's hoping we both live
To see us find a better way
Then the devil's clock struck midnight
And the skies lit up again
And the battlefield where heaven stood
Was blown to hell again
But for just one fleeting moment
The answer seemed so clear
Heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's just beyond the fear
No' heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's for us to find it here
Bug Eyed Monster
1Sexy's Bug
- Joined
- Apr 9, 2002
- Posts
- 3,698
Re: Christmas..........oh yeahhhh...
I had a friend that used to decorate his Christmas tree with his daughter, she went to school so he threw a tree decorating party and said to her, see, you leave and it takes 10 people to replace you...
This is a great idea, and I hope you have lots of fun.
emerald_a said:Well all....Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year although I guess this one will be a little diffrent. It will be a little lonlier as my one and only child...my daughter won't be here. Jeez I hate it when they grow up!! It will be her first ever away from home but I guess at 19 its expected!! LOL I have decided instead to throw an open house for all of those singles out there with nowhere to go...This way I still get to indulge myself in the entertaining part anyway and hopefully I can help bring a lot of wonderful people togeather to share in the love and warmth of the season.
I had a friend that used to decorate his Christmas tree with his daughter, she went to school so he threw a tree decorating party and said to her, see, you leave and it takes 10 people to replace you...
This is a great idea, and I hope you have lots of fun.
Santa Baby
Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me
I've been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, an out-of-space convertible too, light blue
I'll wait up for you dear
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Think of all the fun I've missed
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be oh so good
If you'd check off my Christmas list
Boo doo bee doo
Santa honey, I wanna yacht and really that's
Not a lot
I've been an angel all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed
To a platinum mine
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, I'm filling my stocking with a duplex, and checks
Sign your 'X' on the line
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's
I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me
Boo doo bee doo
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring
I don't mean a phone
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me
I've been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, an out-of-space convertible too, light blue
I'll wait up for you dear
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Think of all the fun I've missed
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be oh so good
If you'd check off my Christmas list
Boo doo bee doo
Santa honey, I wanna yacht and really that's
Not a lot
I've been an angel all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed
To a platinum mine
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, I'm filling my stocking with a duplex, and checks
Sign your 'X' on the line
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's
I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me
Boo doo bee doo
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring
I don't mean a phone
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you "Be of good cheer"
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
It's the hap -happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings
When friends come to call
It's the hap - happiest season of all
There'll be parties for hosting
Marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow
There'll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories of
Christmases long, long ago
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
There'll be much mistltoeing
And hearts will be glowing
When love ones are near
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
There'll be parties for hosting
Marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow
There'll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories of
Christmases long, long ago
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
There'll be much mistltoeing
And hearts will be glowing
When love ones are near
It's The Most Wonderful Time
It's The Most Wonderful Time
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you "Be of good cheer"
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
It's the hap -happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings
When friends come to call
It's the hap - happiest season of all
There'll be parties for hosting
Marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow
There'll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories of
Christmases long, long ago
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
There'll be much mistltoeing
And hearts will be glowing
When love ones are near
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
There'll be parties for hosting
Marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow
There'll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories of
Christmases long, long ago
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
There'll be much mistltoeing
And hearts will be glowing
When love ones are near
It's The Most Wonderful Time
It's The Most Wonderful Time
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
biggbear8
heart and soul
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2002
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Robin Redbreast's Christmas Song
A Scotch Folk Tale Retold
There was once an old gray Cat, who went for a walk one Christmas morning to see what she could see. As she was walking by a small lake, she saw a Robin hopping about on a branch.
"Good morning, Robin Redbreast," she said, "Where are you going on this cold and frosty morning?"
"I'm going to the King," answered the Robin, "to sing him a Christmas Song."
"Oh, but wait before you go," said the Cat. "Hop down to me a minute and I'll show you the beautiful white ring around my neck."
But Robin looked down on Cat and saw an evil look in his eye.
"Ha! ha! gray Cat." He said, "You can't trick me. I saw you show your white ring to the little gray mouse and you ate him! I'm not coming down to you! I'm flying straight on to the King!
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So he spread his wings and flew away. He flew, and he flew, and he flew, till he came to a fence. There sat a greedy old Hawk who was looking about for his breakfast.
"Good morning, Robin Redbreast," cried the greedy old Hawk, "where are you going on this cold and frosty morning?"
"I'm going to the King," answered the wee Robin, "to sing him a Christmas Song."
"Oh, but wait before you go," said the greedy old Hawk, come close and see my magic green feather.
But the wee Robin did not like the look in the eye of the greedy old Hawk.
Ha! ha! old Hawk," he said, "I saw you peck at the tiny birds, and you'll not peck at me. I'm going straight on to the King!"
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So he spread his wings and flew away. He flew, and he flew, and he flew, till he came to a hillside where he saw a sly old fox looking out of his hole.
"Good morning, Robin Redbreast," said the sly old Fox. "Where are you going on this cold and frosty morning?"
"I'm going to the King," answered the wee Robin, "to sing him a Christmas Song."
"Oh, but wait before you go, said the sly old Fox, "let me show you the black spot I have on the end of my tail."
Ha! ha! sly Fox," said the Robin, "I saw chase a small lamb, I'm not interested in the spot on you tail. I'm going straight on to the King."
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So the Robin Flew away once more, and never rested till he came to a rosy-cheeked boy, who sat on a log and eating a big piece of bread and butter. The tired Robin sat on a high branch and watched boy.
"Good morning, Robin Redbreast," said the boy. "Where are you going on this cold and frosty morning?"
"I'm going to sing a Christmas Song to the King," answered the Robin.
"Come a bit nearer," said the boy, "and I'll give you some crumbs from my bread."
"No way rosy-cheeked boy," I saw you catch a goldfinch with your crumbs. I am not interested in your crumbs. I'm flying straight on to the King."
So, no matter who begged him to stop and wait the Robin flew straight on to the King. And he lit on the window-sill of the palace.
There he sat and sang the sweetest Christmas song he knew. He was so happy because it was Christmas Time that he wanted the whole wide world to be as happy as he. And he sang, and he sang, and he sang.
The King and Queen sat at the window, and they were so pleased with his joyful song that they asked each other what they could do to pay him for his loving thought in coming so far to sing to them.
"I know what we can do," said the Queen, "we can find him a friend," Then the King clapped his hands and asked his servants to find a friend for Robin Redbreast. One servant knew a bird named Jenny Wren who lived in the kitchen courtyard.
"Bring her to me," said the King. Jenny Wren and Robin Redbreast, when introduced, liked each other very much. They sat side by side on the window-sill, and they sang, and they sang. And they sang on that merry Christmas morning and many Christmas mornings there after.
The End
A Scotch Folk Tale Retold
There was once an old gray Cat, who went for a walk one Christmas morning to see what she could see. As she was walking by a small lake, she saw a Robin hopping about on a branch.
"Good morning, Robin Redbreast," she said, "Where are you going on this cold and frosty morning?"
"I'm going to the King," answered the Robin, "to sing him a Christmas Song."
"Oh, but wait before you go," said the Cat. "Hop down to me a minute and I'll show you the beautiful white ring around my neck."
But Robin looked down on Cat and saw an evil look in his eye.
"Ha! ha! gray Cat." He said, "You can't trick me. I saw you show your white ring to the little gray mouse and you ate him! I'm not coming down to you! I'm flying straight on to the King!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So he spread his wings and flew away. He flew, and he flew, and he flew, till he came to a fence. There sat a greedy old Hawk who was looking about for his breakfast.
"Good morning, Robin Redbreast," cried the greedy old Hawk, "where are you going on this cold and frosty morning?"
"I'm going to the King," answered the wee Robin, "to sing him a Christmas Song."
"Oh, but wait before you go," said the greedy old Hawk, come close and see my magic green feather.
But the wee Robin did not like the look in the eye of the greedy old Hawk.
Ha! ha! old Hawk," he said, "I saw you peck at the tiny birds, and you'll not peck at me. I'm going straight on to the King!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So he spread his wings and flew away. He flew, and he flew, and he flew, till he came to a hillside where he saw a sly old fox looking out of his hole.
"Good morning, Robin Redbreast," said the sly old Fox. "Where are you going on this cold and frosty morning?"
"I'm going to the King," answered the wee Robin, "to sing him a Christmas Song."
"Oh, but wait before you go, said the sly old Fox, "let me show you the black spot I have on the end of my tail."
Ha! ha! sly Fox," said the Robin, "I saw chase a small lamb, I'm not interested in the spot on you tail. I'm going straight on to the King."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So the Robin Flew away once more, and never rested till he came to a rosy-cheeked boy, who sat on a log and eating a big piece of bread and butter. The tired Robin sat on a high branch and watched boy.
"Good morning, Robin Redbreast," said the boy. "Where are you going on this cold and frosty morning?"
"I'm going to sing a Christmas Song to the King," answered the Robin.
"Come a bit nearer," said the boy, "and I'll give you some crumbs from my bread."
"No way rosy-cheeked boy," I saw you catch a goldfinch with your crumbs. I am not interested in your crumbs. I'm flying straight on to the King."
So, no matter who begged him to stop and wait the Robin flew straight on to the King. And he lit on the window-sill of the palace.
There he sat and sang the sweetest Christmas song he knew. He was so happy because it was Christmas Time that he wanted the whole wide world to be as happy as he. And he sang, and he sang, and he sang.
The King and Queen sat at the window, and they were so pleased with his joyful song that they asked each other what they could do to pay him for his loving thought in coming so far to sing to them.
"I know what we can do," said the Queen, "we can find him a friend," Then the King clapped his hands and asked his servants to find a friend for Robin Redbreast. One servant knew a bird named Jenny Wren who lived in the kitchen courtyard.
"Bring her to me," said the King. Jenny Wren and Robin Redbreast, when introduced, liked each other very much. They sat side by side on the window-sill, and they sang, and they sang. And they sang on that merry Christmas morning and many Christmas mornings there after.
The End
biggbear8
heart and soul
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2002
- Posts
- 14,049
CHRISTMAS IN MAGICAL WOOD
Christmas is a very special time of year all over the world. But Christmas in Magical Wood is, well, magical! The Wood is covered with a blanket of pure white snow that glistens in the sunlight and sparkles in the moonlight.
All the animals that live in the Wood wear their finest winter coats as they scurry about, preparing for Christmas.
Papa and Mama Bunny have lived in the Wood for a long time and Bitsy, their little girl bunny, thinks it’s the best, most exciting place to live in the whole wide world, especially at Christmas time.
But Christmas had not always come to the animals of Magical Wood. In fact, at one time, the little animals had not even known who Santa Claus was!
One winter night, a long time ago, there had come a terrible snow storm. It was just one night before Christmas Eve.
The wind had howled all night long, and it seemed as if the snow would never stop falling.
In the morning, once the storm had passed, the animals awakened to find that the wind had brought something new to their pleasant forest home. The biggest, oldest tree in Magical Wood grew tall and straight in a clearing. It was a Fir tree. That’s the same kind of tree many of us like to decorate at Christmas. On that particular morning, the animals had found the wild Fir tree gaily draped with long, beautiful lengths of shiny silver rope! Since they lived deep in the forest, the animals had never seen anything like this before!
The forest animals didn’t know that someone had decorated a great big Christmas tree in a town square far away. When the storm came, the mischevious wind had come upon a box containing a forgotten length of silver garland, and merrily claimed the sparkling treasure as its own.
The playful wind had tossed the garland aloft, flinging it to and fro amidst the snowflakes, until at last, the garland broke free of the wind and drifted to earth, settling on the Fir tree in Magical Wood. The animals thought their tree looked so beautiful, they left the shiny silver ropes right where they had fallen. And so, on Christmas Eve, the garland on their forest Fir tree had gleamed brightly in the moonlight.
The next morning, Christmas Day, as the animals were scurrying about, just like any other day, they discovered something wonderful. Under the tree in the clearing were presents for all the animals, and a note from Santa himself! The note read:
To my little friends:
Ho, Ho, Ho! Your tree was so shiny in the moonlight, it was very easy to find you. I’m sorry I have not come before, but I didn’t know anyone lived so deep in the Wood. If you decorate your tree with the shiny silver garland every Christmas, I will always be able to find you.
Merry Christmas!
Love, Santa
That was the very first time Santa had visited Magical Wood!
So, each year afterwards, the little animals carefully placed the shiny garland on the tree so Santa could find them. The animals also made little decorations each year to put on the tree. Little acorns tied with scraps of ribbon, pine cones, even little wreaths made from twigs. Finally, there were so many decorations, each family was put in charge of one box.
After breakfast one Christmas Eve morning, everyone gathered at the clearing. Each family was carrying a box of ornaments for their Christmas tree. Papa Bunny kept a list of who had which decorations, so they were sure not to forget any.
One by one, each family put their decorations on the beautiful tree. Finally, all the boxes of ornaments were empty, and everyone stood back to admire their work. But something was missing!
Papa Bunny looked at his list and said, "Well, we’re almost done now! As soon as Mr. & Mrs. Fox and little Alfred arrive with the silver garland, we’ll be done. I guess they’re running a little late this morning."
"Oh my gosh, Papa!" exclaimed Bitsy Bunny, "Alfred Fox and his family moved away during the summer!"
"So they did," replied Papa, "Now then, who did the Foxes leave the silver garland with when they moved?" No one answered.
"Surely they must have given the box to someone before they left," said Grampa Squirrel. "After all, the garland is the most important decoration we have. Without it, Santa will never be able to find us."
But the Fox family had not given the box of garland to anyone! They must have forgotten all about it!
"Well then," said Papa Bunny, "We need to find something that will light up our tree in the moonlight just as the silver garland would have. If we all start searching now, I’m sure we will find something. We don’t have much time, though, so let’s get going!"
Bitsy looked very upset, so Mama Bunny gave her a hug and said, "Bitsy, don’t be sad. I’m sure that one of us will find something bright enough to light up our tree so that Santa can find us."
"Oh Mama!", cried Bitsy, "That’s it. Lights, Mama, lights!" Bitsy was very excited. "Santa will find us Mama, but I have to hurry, before it’s too late!" "Bitsy, wait!! What do you mean?" called Mama. But Bitsy had already scampered out of sight, and was heading towards the pond.
When Bitsy got near the pond, she began searching for something. "Now, where is it?" she wondered.
"Wait, there it is-- that’s it!" she exclaimed, and hopped over to a small stump near the edge of the water. There was a faint glow coming from inside. The tree stump was the winter home for all the fireflies in Magical Wood!
Bitsy was so excited she began to hop up and down. "Oh, they must help, they just must!" she whispered to herself as she knocked on the fireflies’ door.
A moment later the little door swung open, and Bitsy explained to Mrs. Firefly that the silver garland was lost and asked if the fireflies would be willing to lend a hand.
Back at the clearing, all the animals were slowly gathering around their tree. No one had been able to find anything that would glisten in the moonlight as well as the silver garland. They all looked so sad.
Suddenly, they heard a thumpity-thumpity-thump tearing down the forest path.
It was Bitsy, hopping just as fast as she could.
And, behind her, flew hundreds and hundreds of fireflies!
Bitsy pointed to the tree and her little friends did the rest.
Each firefly chose a branch to settle on, and as they landed, they began to blink and glow!.
There was no way Santa was going to miss them now! The tree was brighter than 100 pieces of silver garland! The little animals had never seen anything so bright and beautiful!
It was beginning to get quite dark, so it was time for the younger animals to scurry off to bed. They waved goodnight and called "Thank You!" to the fireflies, then hurried on home.
After dinner, Bitsy’s Mama and Papa tucked her into bed and kissed her good night. In the distance Bitsy could hear the fireflies as they began to sing their favorite Christmas Carols.
Bitsy slept very soundly, and awakened only once, when she heard the sound of sleigh bells coming from the clearing.
The sleepy little bunny smiled happily, and then snuggled back into her soft, warm bed.
Once again it was Christmas in Magical Wood.
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Christmas In Magical Wood by Donna Imprevento - Copyright 1997 - All Rights Reserved
Christmas is a very special time of year all over the world. But Christmas in Magical Wood is, well, magical! The Wood is covered with a blanket of pure white snow that glistens in the sunlight and sparkles in the moonlight.
All the animals that live in the Wood wear their finest winter coats as they scurry about, preparing for Christmas.
Papa and Mama Bunny have lived in the Wood for a long time and Bitsy, their little girl bunny, thinks it’s the best, most exciting place to live in the whole wide world, especially at Christmas time.
But Christmas had not always come to the animals of Magical Wood. In fact, at one time, the little animals had not even known who Santa Claus was!
One winter night, a long time ago, there had come a terrible snow storm. It was just one night before Christmas Eve.
The wind had howled all night long, and it seemed as if the snow would never stop falling.
In the morning, once the storm had passed, the animals awakened to find that the wind had brought something new to their pleasant forest home. The biggest, oldest tree in Magical Wood grew tall and straight in a clearing. It was a Fir tree. That’s the same kind of tree many of us like to decorate at Christmas. On that particular morning, the animals had found the wild Fir tree gaily draped with long, beautiful lengths of shiny silver rope! Since they lived deep in the forest, the animals had never seen anything like this before!
The forest animals didn’t know that someone had decorated a great big Christmas tree in a town square far away. When the storm came, the mischevious wind had come upon a box containing a forgotten length of silver garland, and merrily claimed the sparkling treasure as its own.
The playful wind had tossed the garland aloft, flinging it to and fro amidst the snowflakes, until at last, the garland broke free of the wind and drifted to earth, settling on the Fir tree in Magical Wood. The animals thought their tree looked so beautiful, they left the shiny silver ropes right where they had fallen. And so, on Christmas Eve, the garland on their forest Fir tree had gleamed brightly in the moonlight.
The next morning, Christmas Day, as the animals were scurrying about, just like any other day, they discovered something wonderful. Under the tree in the clearing were presents for all the animals, and a note from Santa himself! The note read:
To my little friends:
Ho, Ho, Ho! Your tree was so shiny in the moonlight, it was very easy to find you. I’m sorry I have not come before, but I didn’t know anyone lived so deep in the Wood. If you decorate your tree with the shiny silver garland every Christmas, I will always be able to find you.
Merry Christmas!
Love, Santa
That was the very first time Santa had visited Magical Wood!
So, each year afterwards, the little animals carefully placed the shiny garland on the tree so Santa could find them. The animals also made little decorations each year to put on the tree. Little acorns tied with scraps of ribbon, pine cones, even little wreaths made from twigs. Finally, there were so many decorations, each family was put in charge of one box.
After breakfast one Christmas Eve morning, everyone gathered at the clearing. Each family was carrying a box of ornaments for their Christmas tree. Papa Bunny kept a list of who had which decorations, so they were sure not to forget any.
One by one, each family put their decorations on the beautiful tree. Finally, all the boxes of ornaments were empty, and everyone stood back to admire their work. But something was missing!
Papa Bunny looked at his list and said, "Well, we’re almost done now! As soon as Mr. & Mrs. Fox and little Alfred arrive with the silver garland, we’ll be done. I guess they’re running a little late this morning."
"Oh my gosh, Papa!" exclaimed Bitsy Bunny, "Alfred Fox and his family moved away during the summer!"
"So they did," replied Papa, "Now then, who did the Foxes leave the silver garland with when they moved?" No one answered.
"Surely they must have given the box to someone before they left," said Grampa Squirrel. "After all, the garland is the most important decoration we have. Without it, Santa will never be able to find us."
But the Fox family had not given the box of garland to anyone! They must have forgotten all about it!
"Well then," said Papa Bunny, "We need to find something that will light up our tree in the moonlight just as the silver garland would have. If we all start searching now, I’m sure we will find something. We don’t have much time, though, so let’s get going!"
Bitsy looked very upset, so Mama Bunny gave her a hug and said, "Bitsy, don’t be sad. I’m sure that one of us will find something bright enough to light up our tree so that Santa can find us."
"Oh Mama!", cried Bitsy, "That’s it. Lights, Mama, lights!" Bitsy was very excited. "Santa will find us Mama, but I have to hurry, before it’s too late!" "Bitsy, wait!! What do you mean?" called Mama. But Bitsy had already scampered out of sight, and was heading towards the pond.
When Bitsy got near the pond, she began searching for something. "Now, where is it?" she wondered.
"Wait, there it is-- that’s it!" she exclaimed, and hopped over to a small stump near the edge of the water. There was a faint glow coming from inside. The tree stump was the winter home for all the fireflies in Magical Wood!
Bitsy was so excited she began to hop up and down. "Oh, they must help, they just must!" she whispered to herself as she knocked on the fireflies’ door.
A moment later the little door swung open, and Bitsy explained to Mrs. Firefly that the silver garland was lost and asked if the fireflies would be willing to lend a hand.
Back at the clearing, all the animals were slowly gathering around their tree. No one had been able to find anything that would glisten in the moonlight as well as the silver garland. They all looked so sad.
Suddenly, they heard a thumpity-thumpity-thump tearing down the forest path.
It was Bitsy, hopping just as fast as she could.
And, behind her, flew hundreds and hundreds of fireflies!
Bitsy pointed to the tree and her little friends did the rest.
Each firefly chose a branch to settle on, and as they landed, they began to blink and glow!.
There was no way Santa was going to miss them now! The tree was brighter than 100 pieces of silver garland! The little animals had never seen anything so bright and beautiful!
It was beginning to get quite dark, so it was time for the younger animals to scurry off to bed. They waved goodnight and called "Thank You!" to the fireflies, then hurried on home.
After dinner, Bitsy’s Mama and Papa tucked her into bed and kissed her good night. In the distance Bitsy could hear the fireflies as they began to sing their favorite Christmas Carols.
Bitsy slept very soundly, and awakened only once, when she heard the sound of sleigh bells coming from the clearing.
The sleepy little bunny smiled happily, and then snuggled back into her soft, warm bed.
Once again it was Christmas in Magical Wood.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Christmas In Magical Wood by Donna Imprevento - Copyright 1997 - All Rights Reserved
biggbear8
heart and soul
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2002
- Posts
- 14,049
A CHILDS CHIRSTMAS IN WALES
by Dylan Thomas
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.
All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.
It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats. Patient, cold and callous, our hands wrapped in socks, we waited to snowball the cats. Sleek and long as jaguars and horrible-whiskered, spitting and snarling, they would slink and sidle over the white back-garden walls, and the lynx-eyed hunters, Jim and I, fur-capped and moccasined trappers from Hudson Bay, off Mumbles Road, would hurl our deadly snowballs at the green of their eyes. The wise cats never appeared.
We were so still, Eskimo-footed arctic marksmen in the muffling silence of the eternal snows - eternal, ever since Wednesday - that we never heard Mrs. Prothero's first cry from her igloo at the bottom of the garden. Or, if we heard it at all, it was, to us, like the far-off challenge of our enemy and prey, the neighbor's polar cat. But soon the voice grew louder.
"Fire!" cried Mrs. Prothero, and she beat the dinner-gong.
And we ran down the garden, with the snowballs in our arms, toward the house; and smoke, indeed, was pouring out of the dining-room, and the gong was bombilating, and Mrs. Prothero was announcing ruin like a town crier in Pompeii. This was better than all the cats in Wales standing on the wall in a row. We bounded into the house, laden with snowballs, and stopped at the open door of the smoke-filled room.
Something was burning all right; perhaps it was Mr. Prothero, who always slept there after midday dinner with a newspaper over his face. But he was standing in the middle of the room, saying, "A fine Christmas!" and smacking at the smoke with a slipper.
"Call the fire brigade," cried Mrs. Prothero as she beat the gong.
"There won't be there," said Mr. Prothero, "it's Christmas."
There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Mr. Prothero standing in the middle of them, waving his slipper as though he were conducting.
"Do something," he said. And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke - I think we missed Mr. Prothero - and ran out of the house to the telephone box.
"Let's call the police as well," Jim said. "And the ambulance." "And Ernie Jenkins, he likes fires."
But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall men in helmets brought a hose into the house and Mr. Prothero got out just in time before they turned it on. Nobody could have had a noisier Christmas Eve. And when the firemen turned off the hose and were standing in the wet, smoky room, Jim's Aunt, Miss. Prothero, came downstairs and peered in at them. Jim and I waited, very quietly, to hear what she would say to them. She said the right thing, always. She looked at the three tall firemen in their shining helmets, standing among the smoke and cinders and dissolving snowballs, and she said, "Would you like anything to read?"
Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed. But here a small boy says: "It snowed last year, too. I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea."
"But that was not the same snow," I say. "Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely -ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."
"Were there postmen then, too?"
"With sprinkling eyes and wind-cherried noses, on spread, frozen feet they crunched up to the doors and mittened on them manfully. But all that the children could hear was a ringing of bells."
"You mean that the postman went rat-a-tat-tat and the doors rang?"
"I mean that the bells the children could hear were inside them."
"I only hear thunder sometimes, never bells."
"There were church bells, too."
"Inside them?"
"No, no, no, in the bat-black, snow-white belfries, tugged by bishops and storks. And they rang their tidings over the bandaged town, over the frozen foam of the powder and ice-cream hills, over the crackling sea. It seemed that all the churches boomed for joy under my window; and the weathercocks crew for Christmas, on our fence."
"Get back to the postmen"
"They were just ordinary postmen, found of walking and dogs and Christmas and the snow. They knocked on the doors with blue knuckles ...."
"Ours has got a black knocker...."
"And then they stood on the white Welcome mat in the little, drifted porches and huffed and puffed, making ghosts with their breath, and jogged from foot to foot like small boys wanting to go out."
"And then the presents?"
"And then the Presents, after the Christmas box. And the cold postman, with a rose on his button-nose, tingled down the tea-tray-slithered run of the chilly glinting hill. He went in his ice-bound boots like a man on fishmonger's slabs.
"He wagged his bag like a frozen camel's hump, dizzily turned the corner on one foot, and, by God, he was gone."
"Get back to the Presents."
"There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that could be tug-o'-warred down to the galoshes; blinding tam-o'-shanters like patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies and balaclavas for victims of head-shrinking tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to the skin there were mustached and rasping vests that made you wonder why the aunts had any skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted nose bag from an aunt now, alas, no longer whinnying with us. And pictureless books in which small boys, though warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles' pond and did and drowned; and books that told me everything about the wasp, except why."
"Go on the Useless Presents."
"Bags of moist and many-colored jelly babies and a folded flag and a false nose and a tram-conductor's cap and a machine that punched tickets and rang a bell; never a catapult; once, by mistake that no one could explain, a little hatchet; and a celluloid duck that made, when you pressed it, a most unducklike sound, a mewing moo that an ambitious cat might make who wished to be a cow; and a painting book in which I could make the grass, the trees, the sea and the animals any colour I pleased, and still the dazzling sky-blue sheep are grazing in the red field under the rainbow-billed and pea-green birds. Hardboileds, toffee, fudge and allsorts, crunches, cracknels, humbugs, glaciers, marzipan, and butterwelsh for the Welsh. And troops of bright tin soldiers who, if they could not fight, could always run. And Snakes-and-Families and Happy Ladders. And Easy Hobbi-Games for Little Engineers, complete with instructions. Oh, easy for Leonardo! And a whistle to make the dogs bark to wake up the old man next door to make him beat on the wall with his stick to shake our picture off the wall. And a packet of cigarettes: you put one in your mouth and you stood at the corner of the street and you waited for hours, in vain, for an old lady to scold you for smoking a cigarette, and then with a smirk you ate it. And then it was breakfast under the balloons."
"Were there Uncles like in our house?"
"There are always Uncles at Christmas. The same Uncles. And on Christmas morning, with dog-disturbing whistle and sugar fags, I would scour the swatched town for the news of the little world, and find always a dead bird by the Post Office or by the white deserted swings; perhaps a robin, all but one of his fires out. Men and women wading or scooping back from chapel, with taproom noses and wind-bussed cheeks, all albinos, huddles their stiff black jarring feathers against the irreligious snow. Mistletoe hung from the gas brackets in all the front parlors; there was sherry and walnuts and bottled beer and crackers by the dessertspoons; and cats in their fur-abouts watched the fires; and the high-heaped fire spat, all ready for the chestnuts and the mulling pokers. Some few large men sat in the front parlors, without their collars, Uncles almost certainly, trying their new cigars, holding them out judiciously at arms' length, returning them to their mouths, coughing, then holding them out again as though waiting for the explosion; and some few small aunts, not wanted in the kitchen, nor anywhere else for that matter, sat on the very edge of their chairs, poised and brittle, afraid to break, like faded cups and saucers."
Not many those mornings trod the piling streets: an old man always, fawn-bowlered, yellow-gloved and, at this time of year, with spats of snow, would take his constitutional to the white bowling green and back, as he would take it wet or fire on Christmas Day or Doomsday; sometimes two hale young men, with big pipes blazing, no overcoats and wind blown scarfs, would trudge, unspeaking, down to the forlorn sea, to work up an appetite, to blow away the fumes, who knows, to walk into the waves until nothing of them was left but the two furling smoke clouds of their inextinguishable briars. Then I would be slap-dashing home, the gravy smell of the dinners of others, the bird smell, the brandy, the pudding and mince, coiling up to my nostrils, when out of a snow-clogged side lane would come a boy the spit of myself, with a pink-tipped cigarette and the violet past of a black eye, cocky as a bullfinch, leering all to himself.
I hated him on sight and sound, and would be about to put my dog whistle to my lips and blow him off the face of Christmas when suddenly he, with a violet wink, put his whistle to his lips and blew so stridently, so high, so exquisitely loud, that gobbling faces, their cheeks bulged with goose, would press against their tinsled windows, the whole length of the white echoing street. For dinner we had turkey and blazing pudding, and after dinner the Uncles sat in front of the fire, loosened all buttons, put their large moist hands over their watch chains, groaned a little and slept. Mothers, aunts and sisters scuttled to and fro, bearing tureens. Auntie Bessie, who had already been frightened, twice, by a clock-work mouse, whimpered at the sideboard and had some elderberry wine. The dog was sick. Auntie Dosie had to have three aspirins, but Auntie Hannah, who liked port, stood in the middle of the snowbound back yard, singing like a big-bosomed thrush. I would blow up balloons to see how big they would blow up to; and, when they burst, which they all did, the Uncles jumped and rumbled. In the rich and heavy afternoon, the Uncles breathing like dolphins and the snow descending, I would sit among festoons and Chinese lanterns and nibble dates and try to make a model man-o'-war, following the Instructions for Little Engineers, and produce what might be mistaken for a sea-going tramcar.
Or I would go out, my bright new boots squeaking, into the white world, on to the seaward hill, to call on Jim and Dan and Jack and to pad through the still streets, leaving huge footprints on the hidden pavements.
"I bet people will think there's been hippos."
"What would you do if you saw a hippo coming down our street?"
"I'd go like this, bang! I'd throw him over the railings and roll him down the hill and then I'd tickle him under the ear and he'd wag his tail."
"What would you do if you saw two hippos?"
Iron-flanked and bellowing he-hippos clanked and battered through the scudding snow toward us as we passed Mr. Daniel's house.
"Let's post Mr. Daniel a snow-ball through his letter box."
"Let's write things in the snow."
"Let's write, 'Mr. Daniel looks like a spaniel' all over his lawn."
Or we walked on the white shore. "Can the fishes see it's snowing?"
The silent one-clouded heavens drifted on to the sea. Now we were snow-blind travelers lost on the north hills, and vast dewlapped dogs, with flasks round their necks, ambled and shambled up to us, baying "Excelsior." We returned home through the poor streets where only a few children fumbled with bare red fingers in the wheel-rutted snow and cat-called after us, their voices fading away, as we trudged uphill, into the cries of the dock birds and the hooting of ships out in the whirling bay. And then, at tea the recovered Uncles would be jolly; and the ice cake loomed in the center of the table like a marble grave. Auntie Hannah laced her tea with rum, because it was only once a year.
Bring out the tall tales now that we told by the fire as the gaslight bubbled like a diver. Ghosts whooed like owls in the long nights when I dared not look over my shoulder; animals lurked in the cubbyhole under the stairs and the gas meter ticked. And I remember that we went singing carols once, when there wasn't the shaving of a moon to light the flying streets. At the end of a long road was a drive that led to a large house, and we stumbled up the darkness of the drive that night, each one of us afraid, each one holding a stone in his hand in case, and all of us too brave to say a word. The wind through the trees made noises as of old and unpleasant and maybe webfooted men wheezing in caves. We reached the black bulk of the house. "What shall we give them? Hark the Herald?"
"No," Jack said, "Good King Wencelas. I'll count three." One, two three, and we began to sing, our voices high and seemingly distant in the snow-felted darkness round the house that was occupied by nobody we knew. We stood close together, near the dark door. Good King Wencelas looked out On the Feast of Stephen ... And then a small, dry voice, like the voice of someone who has not spoken for a long time, joined our singing: a small, dry, eggshell voice from the other side of the door: a small dry voice through the keyhole. And when we stopped running we were outside our house; the front room was lovely; balloons floated under the hot-water-bottle-gulping gas; everything was good again and shone over the town.
"Perhaps it was a ghost," Jim said. "
Perhaps it was trolls," Dan said, who was always reading.
"Let's go in and see if there's any jelly left," Jack said. And we did that.
Always on Christmas night there was music. An uncle played the fiddle, a cousin sang "Cherry Ripe," and another uncle sang "Drake's Drum." It was very warm in the little house. Auntie Hannah, who had got on to the parsnip wine, sang a song about Bleeding Hearts and Death, and then another in which she said her heart was like a Bird's Nest; and then everybody laughed again; and then I went to bed. Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steady falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.
Acknowledgments
by Dylan Thomas
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.
All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.
It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats. Patient, cold and callous, our hands wrapped in socks, we waited to snowball the cats. Sleek and long as jaguars and horrible-whiskered, spitting and snarling, they would slink and sidle over the white back-garden walls, and the lynx-eyed hunters, Jim and I, fur-capped and moccasined trappers from Hudson Bay, off Mumbles Road, would hurl our deadly snowballs at the green of their eyes. The wise cats never appeared.
We were so still, Eskimo-footed arctic marksmen in the muffling silence of the eternal snows - eternal, ever since Wednesday - that we never heard Mrs. Prothero's first cry from her igloo at the bottom of the garden. Or, if we heard it at all, it was, to us, like the far-off challenge of our enemy and prey, the neighbor's polar cat. But soon the voice grew louder.
"Fire!" cried Mrs. Prothero, and she beat the dinner-gong.
And we ran down the garden, with the snowballs in our arms, toward the house; and smoke, indeed, was pouring out of the dining-room, and the gong was bombilating, and Mrs. Prothero was announcing ruin like a town crier in Pompeii. This was better than all the cats in Wales standing on the wall in a row. We bounded into the house, laden with snowballs, and stopped at the open door of the smoke-filled room.
Something was burning all right; perhaps it was Mr. Prothero, who always slept there after midday dinner with a newspaper over his face. But he was standing in the middle of the room, saying, "A fine Christmas!" and smacking at the smoke with a slipper.
"Call the fire brigade," cried Mrs. Prothero as she beat the gong.
"There won't be there," said Mr. Prothero, "it's Christmas."
There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Mr. Prothero standing in the middle of them, waving his slipper as though he were conducting.
"Do something," he said. And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke - I think we missed Mr. Prothero - and ran out of the house to the telephone box.
"Let's call the police as well," Jim said. "And the ambulance." "And Ernie Jenkins, he likes fires."
But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall men in helmets brought a hose into the house and Mr. Prothero got out just in time before they turned it on. Nobody could have had a noisier Christmas Eve. And when the firemen turned off the hose and were standing in the wet, smoky room, Jim's Aunt, Miss. Prothero, came downstairs and peered in at them. Jim and I waited, very quietly, to hear what she would say to them. She said the right thing, always. She looked at the three tall firemen in their shining helmets, standing among the smoke and cinders and dissolving snowballs, and she said, "Would you like anything to read?"
Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed. But here a small boy says: "It snowed last year, too. I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea."
"But that was not the same snow," I say. "Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely -ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."
"Were there postmen then, too?"
"With sprinkling eyes and wind-cherried noses, on spread, frozen feet they crunched up to the doors and mittened on them manfully. But all that the children could hear was a ringing of bells."
"You mean that the postman went rat-a-tat-tat and the doors rang?"
"I mean that the bells the children could hear were inside them."
"I only hear thunder sometimes, never bells."
"There were church bells, too."
"Inside them?"
"No, no, no, in the bat-black, snow-white belfries, tugged by bishops and storks. And they rang their tidings over the bandaged town, over the frozen foam of the powder and ice-cream hills, over the crackling sea. It seemed that all the churches boomed for joy under my window; and the weathercocks crew for Christmas, on our fence."
"Get back to the postmen"
"They were just ordinary postmen, found of walking and dogs and Christmas and the snow. They knocked on the doors with blue knuckles ...."
"Ours has got a black knocker...."
"And then they stood on the white Welcome mat in the little, drifted porches and huffed and puffed, making ghosts with their breath, and jogged from foot to foot like small boys wanting to go out."
"And then the presents?"
"And then the Presents, after the Christmas box. And the cold postman, with a rose on his button-nose, tingled down the tea-tray-slithered run of the chilly glinting hill. He went in his ice-bound boots like a man on fishmonger's slabs.
"He wagged his bag like a frozen camel's hump, dizzily turned the corner on one foot, and, by God, he was gone."
"Get back to the Presents."
"There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that could be tug-o'-warred down to the galoshes; blinding tam-o'-shanters like patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies and balaclavas for victims of head-shrinking tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to the skin there were mustached and rasping vests that made you wonder why the aunts had any skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted nose bag from an aunt now, alas, no longer whinnying with us. And pictureless books in which small boys, though warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles' pond and did and drowned; and books that told me everything about the wasp, except why."
"Go on the Useless Presents."
"Bags of moist and many-colored jelly babies and a folded flag and a false nose and a tram-conductor's cap and a machine that punched tickets and rang a bell; never a catapult; once, by mistake that no one could explain, a little hatchet; and a celluloid duck that made, when you pressed it, a most unducklike sound, a mewing moo that an ambitious cat might make who wished to be a cow; and a painting book in which I could make the grass, the trees, the sea and the animals any colour I pleased, and still the dazzling sky-blue sheep are grazing in the red field under the rainbow-billed and pea-green birds. Hardboileds, toffee, fudge and allsorts, crunches, cracknels, humbugs, glaciers, marzipan, and butterwelsh for the Welsh. And troops of bright tin soldiers who, if they could not fight, could always run. And Snakes-and-Families and Happy Ladders. And Easy Hobbi-Games for Little Engineers, complete with instructions. Oh, easy for Leonardo! And a whistle to make the dogs bark to wake up the old man next door to make him beat on the wall with his stick to shake our picture off the wall. And a packet of cigarettes: you put one in your mouth and you stood at the corner of the street and you waited for hours, in vain, for an old lady to scold you for smoking a cigarette, and then with a smirk you ate it. And then it was breakfast under the balloons."
"Were there Uncles like in our house?"
"There are always Uncles at Christmas. The same Uncles. And on Christmas morning, with dog-disturbing whistle and sugar fags, I would scour the swatched town for the news of the little world, and find always a dead bird by the Post Office or by the white deserted swings; perhaps a robin, all but one of his fires out. Men and women wading or scooping back from chapel, with taproom noses and wind-bussed cheeks, all albinos, huddles their stiff black jarring feathers against the irreligious snow. Mistletoe hung from the gas brackets in all the front parlors; there was sherry and walnuts and bottled beer and crackers by the dessertspoons; and cats in their fur-abouts watched the fires; and the high-heaped fire spat, all ready for the chestnuts and the mulling pokers. Some few large men sat in the front parlors, without their collars, Uncles almost certainly, trying their new cigars, holding them out judiciously at arms' length, returning them to their mouths, coughing, then holding them out again as though waiting for the explosion; and some few small aunts, not wanted in the kitchen, nor anywhere else for that matter, sat on the very edge of their chairs, poised and brittle, afraid to break, like faded cups and saucers."
Not many those mornings trod the piling streets: an old man always, fawn-bowlered, yellow-gloved and, at this time of year, with spats of snow, would take his constitutional to the white bowling green and back, as he would take it wet or fire on Christmas Day or Doomsday; sometimes two hale young men, with big pipes blazing, no overcoats and wind blown scarfs, would trudge, unspeaking, down to the forlorn sea, to work up an appetite, to blow away the fumes, who knows, to walk into the waves until nothing of them was left but the two furling smoke clouds of their inextinguishable briars. Then I would be slap-dashing home, the gravy smell of the dinners of others, the bird smell, the brandy, the pudding and mince, coiling up to my nostrils, when out of a snow-clogged side lane would come a boy the spit of myself, with a pink-tipped cigarette and the violet past of a black eye, cocky as a bullfinch, leering all to himself.
I hated him on sight and sound, and would be about to put my dog whistle to my lips and blow him off the face of Christmas when suddenly he, with a violet wink, put his whistle to his lips and blew so stridently, so high, so exquisitely loud, that gobbling faces, their cheeks bulged with goose, would press against their tinsled windows, the whole length of the white echoing street. For dinner we had turkey and blazing pudding, and after dinner the Uncles sat in front of the fire, loosened all buttons, put their large moist hands over their watch chains, groaned a little and slept. Mothers, aunts and sisters scuttled to and fro, bearing tureens. Auntie Bessie, who had already been frightened, twice, by a clock-work mouse, whimpered at the sideboard and had some elderberry wine. The dog was sick. Auntie Dosie had to have three aspirins, but Auntie Hannah, who liked port, stood in the middle of the snowbound back yard, singing like a big-bosomed thrush. I would blow up balloons to see how big they would blow up to; and, when they burst, which they all did, the Uncles jumped and rumbled. In the rich and heavy afternoon, the Uncles breathing like dolphins and the snow descending, I would sit among festoons and Chinese lanterns and nibble dates and try to make a model man-o'-war, following the Instructions for Little Engineers, and produce what might be mistaken for a sea-going tramcar.
Or I would go out, my bright new boots squeaking, into the white world, on to the seaward hill, to call on Jim and Dan and Jack and to pad through the still streets, leaving huge footprints on the hidden pavements.
"I bet people will think there's been hippos."
"What would you do if you saw a hippo coming down our street?"
"I'd go like this, bang! I'd throw him over the railings and roll him down the hill and then I'd tickle him under the ear and he'd wag his tail."
"What would you do if you saw two hippos?"
Iron-flanked and bellowing he-hippos clanked and battered through the scudding snow toward us as we passed Mr. Daniel's house.
"Let's post Mr. Daniel a snow-ball through his letter box."
"Let's write things in the snow."
"Let's write, 'Mr. Daniel looks like a spaniel' all over his lawn."
Or we walked on the white shore. "Can the fishes see it's snowing?"
The silent one-clouded heavens drifted on to the sea. Now we were snow-blind travelers lost on the north hills, and vast dewlapped dogs, with flasks round their necks, ambled and shambled up to us, baying "Excelsior." We returned home through the poor streets where only a few children fumbled with bare red fingers in the wheel-rutted snow and cat-called after us, their voices fading away, as we trudged uphill, into the cries of the dock birds and the hooting of ships out in the whirling bay. And then, at tea the recovered Uncles would be jolly; and the ice cake loomed in the center of the table like a marble grave. Auntie Hannah laced her tea with rum, because it was only once a year.
Bring out the tall tales now that we told by the fire as the gaslight bubbled like a diver. Ghosts whooed like owls in the long nights when I dared not look over my shoulder; animals lurked in the cubbyhole under the stairs and the gas meter ticked. And I remember that we went singing carols once, when there wasn't the shaving of a moon to light the flying streets. At the end of a long road was a drive that led to a large house, and we stumbled up the darkness of the drive that night, each one of us afraid, each one holding a stone in his hand in case, and all of us too brave to say a word. The wind through the trees made noises as of old and unpleasant and maybe webfooted men wheezing in caves. We reached the black bulk of the house. "What shall we give them? Hark the Herald?"
"No," Jack said, "Good King Wencelas. I'll count three." One, two three, and we began to sing, our voices high and seemingly distant in the snow-felted darkness round the house that was occupied by nobody we knew. We stood close together, near the dark door. Good King Wencelas looked out On the Feast of Stephen ... And then a small, dry voice, like the voice of someone who has not spoken for a long time, joined our singing: a small, dry, eggshell voice from the other side of the door: a small dry voice through the keyhole. And when we stopped running we were outside our house; the front room was lovely; balloons floated under the hot-water-bottle-gulping gas; everything was good again and shone over the town.
"Perhaps it was a ghost," Jim said. "
Perhaps it was trolls," Dan said, who was always reading.
"Let's go in and see if there's any jelly left," Jack said. And we did that.
Always on Christmas night there was music. An uncle played the fiddle, a cousin sang "Cherry Ripe," and another uncle sang "Drake's Drum." It was very warm in the little house. Auntie Hannah, who had got on to the parsnip wine, sang a song about Bleeding Hearts and Death, and then another in which she said her heart was like a Bird's Nest; and then everybody laughed again; and then I went to bed. Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steady falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.
Acknowledgments
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Prospero Ano y Felicidad.
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Prospero Ano y Felicidad.
I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas
I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas
I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas
>From the bottom of my heart.
[repeats]
Actual translation:
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas
Prosperous New Year and Happiness.
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Prospero Ano y Felicidad.
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Prospero Ano y Felicidad.
I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas
I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas
I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas
>From the bottom of my heart.
[repeats]
Actual translation:
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas
Prosperous New Year and Happiness.
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