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A visit from Old Nick


With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore 

‘TWAS the night before Christmas and all through the town

Not a creature was stirring; all animals put down.

The lights in the windows were twinkling and bright,

Little ones excited for Santa to come in the night.

Old people were sequestered at home in their beds

With fever and coughing and pains in their heads.

Hospitals chock full of those who were sick,

Despite all the boosters on arms they’d had pricked.

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,

My husband turned over and said, ‘what’s the matter?’

Outside of my window I saw strong lights flash,

Pulled on my dressing gown and tied tight its sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave a lustre of midday to goings-on below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a black-windowed van with eight passengers parked near.

The driver looked crazy, he drove in way too quick,

I knew in that moment they were here for the sick.

More rapid than eagles his minions they came,

He whistled, and shouted, and called each by their name:

‘Now, Boris now, Dominic now, Liz and our Priti!

On, Michael on, Sajid, on, Jacob and Rishi!’

To the square of the town! To the top of the hill!

Now jab away! Jab away! Jab away still!

Transporting new variants, evil sprites they did fly,

Those opposed to mRNA injections are scattered awry.

As into their houses these harpies now flew

With bags full of vaccines from Big Pharma to you.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The clawing and pawing of cloven hoof.

I drew in my head, and was turning around,

When down the chimney Old Nick came in with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his toes,

Davos clothes darkened with blood, cocaine on his nose.

A big bundle of poison he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a rabid dog prepared for attack.

His eyes were demented, his pallor was scary!

His demeanour was plain, a flag to the unwary!

His wicked little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

I feared for my children and all those that I know.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad ugly face and a very big belly,

He screeched and he wheezed, breath fetid and smelly.

He was greedy and soulless, an evil old man,

I was determined to see him, to call out his rotten plan:

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had plenty to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

Filling all the syringes; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

He laughed in my face and up the chimney he rose.

He sprang back into his van, to his team gave a nod,

And all of them gone like Hades’ best own squad.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight:

‘I’ll be back again, sucker, just you sit nice and tight.’

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Kate Dunlop
Kate Dunlop
Kate Dunlop is a mediator.

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