With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the 'House'
Not an EDM was stirring, none signed by a louse
Our stockings were hung, by the chimney with care
In the hopes that our PJMs, soon would be there.

The Veterans were nestled, with a pint and a pie
The lack of their PJMs, soon gave rise to a sigh
Our Barry Fleming with his yuletide distractions
Settled down with his wine, and a bag of pork scratchings.

And Jock Fenton raised a glass and holl'rd 'Hoots Mon'
At the plight of the Veterans who've been disgracefully xxxx on
Where's our RO5 we know he's somewhere in hiding
Is he biding his time, or like me, just abiding.

Has he settled down now, for a long winter's nap
Or is his silence the result, of a not happy chap
When on the computer, a great clatter arose
Too much to hope, for good news, I suppose.

My missus called, 'Arthur, com'ere lively and quick
There's a bloke on the lawn, and I don't think it's St Nick'
There on the grass was a man all dishevilled
A tin cup in his hand, a placard he levelled.

Spare a copper for an out of work Civil servant
You'd notice my plight, if you're fairly observant
My sons are at Eton and the fees are a fright
The mortgage payments are just squeezing me tight.

Are you a member of the Honours Committee?
The ones who denies us, and gives us no pity?
The yoyos who think, from all accountability exempt?
And treats all of us Veterans, with disdain and contempt.

More rapid than eagles, his denials they came
When I asked where he came from and even his name
He whistled and shouted and called for his mates
As they tumbled and cursed as they rushed through the gates.

Now Coney! Now Wilkinson! Now Ricketts! Now Brennan!
On Janvrin! On Normington! On Chapman! On Matheson!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall
To them, No PJM, GSM, and to you Bugger all.

They met with an obstacle, like our fellows of worth
Who derided them with logic, resistance and mirth
Producing our positive and unrefutable rebuttal
Kicked into touch, and your duplicity, scuttle.

They spoke not a word, and they all retreated back
Miffed at the thought, that they'd been given the sack
Don't be discourteous, and please, don't make a fuss
The Veterans say, you haven't heard the last of us.

They jumped in their limmos, and waved us goodbye
With two fingers pointing, right up to the sky
And it's arseholes to you, you wanted the fight
As I pinned on my PJM and wished them goodnight



Last edited by Arthur R-S on Sat Dec 30, 2006 11:05 am; edited 1 time in total

Brilliant Arthur, Ha! Ha!


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HD Committee: Amateurs in a Professional World
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Not as good as the one you posted John. That was excellent. Shame the author didn't identify themselves.

I would have been proud to put my handle to that one.


Yours Aye

Arthur

Arthur R-S wrote:

With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

I have a sneaking suspicion, Arthur, that Clement would have enjoyed your rendition just as much as his own.

I wonder if it'll be The Night Before Christmas that our puttees will be filled with one present we'd all like to have!

St Nick v. Old Nick methinks.

Barry


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BarryF, who fought for the Right to Wear the Pingat Jasa Malaysia

Well done Arthur.I don't know about St. Nick but I think you are taking the St. Michael out of the suits with that one
Superb.

Rgds Ray

Now would I do a thing like that.

Glad to see that you see the symbolism in the poem. We do not talk in metaphores here.

Yours Aye

Arthur

Arthur R-S wrote:

Glad to see that you see the symbolism in the poem. We do not talk in metaphores here.

Err ... allegorically, speaking, of course.


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BarryF, who fought for the Right to Wear the Pingat Jasa Malaysia

Allegoricals, is it Barry?

Aren't they the large reptiles found in the Everglades? Or is that Alligators? And my wife doesn't not know what a puttie is.

Yours Aye

Arthur

Straight out of the Masonic handbook!!!

J