Obligatory Festive Versifications

 OF CHRISTMAS CHRIS 

How he was DRAGGED DOWN TO CHRISTMAS HELL,

The MANNERS AND MODES of the CHRISTMAS DEAD, and CHRISTMAS DAEMONS, 

And how CHRISTMAS CHRIS managed to ESCAPE 

 

Christmas Chris was in a fix: 

Betwixt the Christmas wine and beer, 

The Christmas special egg nog mix, 

The Christmas soon and Christmas here, 

He’d had his fill of Christmas cheer, 

And in a Christmas daze he fell 

Into a torpid Christmas blear, 

Out of his Christmas All is Well, 

From Christmas Heaven into CHRISTMAS HELL. 

 

Christmas Hell was full fantastic 

With Christmas crap and Christmas Kringle, 

Christmas wrapping, Christmas plastic, 

Christmas bells and Christmas dingle, 

Endless Christmas jingle jingle 

Jingles echoed down the floors; 

Upside down in every ingle, 

Christmas trees grew down in scores. 

The ruler of this land was SATAN CLAWS. 

With Christmas fangs in Christmas jaws, 

And Christmas eyes of festive red, 

And Christmas slaver in his maws, 

And Christmas horns upon his head, 

No Christmas laugh from he – instead,

A booming, roaring “O HO HO”,

Came forth to cheer the Christmas dead,  

A snarling, growling “O NO NO”,

And “NOW YOU’RE HERE, YOU’LL NEVER GO GO GO!”

 

It was a happy Christmas realm – 

Here Christmas could not be denied, 

Here Christmas glitz could overwhelm; 

Christmas Chris’s eyes were wide

As Satan Claws came to his side. 

“O Christmas Chris, your dream is found – 

Be welcome to my land,” he cried. 

“From Christmas treat to treat you’ll bound 

In Christmas Hell, it’s CHRISTMAS ALL YEAR ROUND.” 

 

Chris saw it all, he knew the score, 

Sang from the Christmas hymn sheet smartly,

Christmas shopping at each store, 

Joining in the Christmas party – 

For Christmas Chris was Christmas tarty. 

But something somehow held him back, 

His Christmas cheer was less than hearty, 

His Christmas spirit somewhat slack – 

In Christmas Hell there was a lack of… lack. 

 

But for one hundred years and more, 

He joined the great extravaganza, 

Shopped at Christmas shops galore, 

Sang forwards, backwards every stanza 

By Carey, Buble, Mario Lanza,

Binged on pudding til he burst, 

Then binged again, a binge bonanza, 

In Christmas crackers was immersed:

His Christmas spirits sank: it was the worst. 

 

So lowly grew his joie de vivre, 

Through Christmas Hell they raised alarms – 

Was Christmas Chris an unbeliever, 

Immune to all the Christmas charms 

Of Christmas Hell? The Christmas balms 

Of Christmas food and Christmas dishes? 

How dare he suffer any qualms 

About a Christmas so propitious, 

Christmas delectable, divine, delicious! 

 

Now Satan Claws grew quite irate 

At Christmas Chris’s melancholy, 

And came his inmate to berate:

“Now what’s all this, you Yuletide Wally? 

Do I detect a lack of jolly? 

A scorning of my Christmas cherry? 

Less ‘Fa la la’ and ‘Boughs of holly’ 

Than we would wish? No Christmas merry? 

For here in Christmas Hell, ‘tis Christmas very – 

 

Here, All is More, and Nothing, Less: 

All oversugared, overiced, 

Christmas excess upon excess! 

Our Christmas food is overspiced, 

Our Christmas gifts are overpriced; 

To not partake, our only crime; 

Our only lack is Christmas CHRIST – 

Here, Christmas reason, Christmas rhyme; 

Here, only Christmas til the end of time.”   

 

“But I love Christmas – that I do!”

Cried Christmas Chris in his frustration, 

“I always have – you know it’s true!

But can’t you find accommodation 

In Christmas hell for moderation? 

My Christmas wish today is strange: 

This Christmas needs alleviation, 

Some Not Christmas for a change. 

Is this a Christmas gift you could arrange?”

 

“A heresy! A heresy!” 

Satan Claws in anger cried – 

“I must call up the clerisy, 

My Christmas will won’t be defied!” 

In fury, bulging hugely wide, 

Like some Christmas-Daemon-Shiva, 

He sprouted arms from every side: 

A KRAMPUS army, in a fever, 

Raging, “Let us smite the unbeliever!” 

In confusion and in terror, 

Christmas Chris fled from the horde, 

All screaming, “Purge the Christmas error!

He spurns our Christmas Hell accord! 

We’ll scourge him for our Christmas Lord – 

He’s made a list, and checked it twice, 

And now we’ll sort with axe and sword 

Who is naughty, who is nice! 

Now Chris shall be our CHRISTMAS SACRIFICE!”  

 

All through the Christmas Hell they raced, 

All through the hollow Christmas halls, 

As after Christmas Chris they chased; 

A bleak infinitude of malls 

That thundered with their Christmas calls

For “CHRISTMAS BLOOD!” And “CHRISTMAS ROAST!” – 

Ears ringing with their yowls and squalls, 

Chris fell before the braying host, 

And blackness overcame him. He was toast. 

 

***

 

Through ouch and sore and hurt and ache, 

Blood dully thumping in his head, 

And stale smells of Christmas cake, 

Undead, not dead, alert, in bed,

Wakes Christmas Chris. A vision, red, 

Of Christmas, someplace, somewhere, steaming 

Through his brandied brains is shed, 

And vanishes in morning’s gleaming. 

Then was it all a demon drinker’s dreaming? 

 

Now through the blank hungover day, 

The ruins of the Christmas feast, 

Chris makes his shuffle-stumble way. 

And did he beat the Christmas beast? 

Is he from Christmas Hell released? 

The image still before his eyes, 

Of Christmas Hell and its deceased, 

Flames and flickers, fades and dies; 

“Thank Christ that’s over then”, Chris sighs. 

 

END