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My Santa
My Santa’s not a bit like yours
He can’t slide down chimneys
Can’t pass through doors
But he’s gangster savvy
He’s biker queer
With a sack o’ green bud
On a Texas steer
My Yule tide is a different thing
I get a little bit scared
Whenever Saint Nick rings
He’s got a couple of buddies
Whom you might not know
They get dangerous speedy
When its blowing snow
Late last winter on a silent night
In a frosty alley
Was a fearsome sight
When the big guy settled
An account or two
There were a few less dudes
Who were overdue
I can’t tell you how to run your life
That you should keep your Christmas
By the candle light
But watch those fellows
From the reindeer farm
They’re a bit unstable
And they could be armed
[Dec 2006]
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The
Poetry of Daniel Harrison