Entertainment Lifestyle Poetry

Ho, Ho, Ho and Reindeer Stew

Written by Dee R. Lunbeck

T’was the eve before Christmas

When then flying by

I thought I saw reindeer

Up there high in the sky.


With flashing red light

And, maybe, green too

Off, far above me,

But what could I do?


Cause there came no gun

Left under our trees

There wasn’t one

Any Christmas for me.


And I’d heard about sack

Of treasures, up there

Maybe be guns too

Up in the air


Ya, may I remember

How stories were told

But again, it’s December

And now I’m old

And I’m no quitter

No promise forgot

So, I’ve got a big gun

That I just bought


Now hear this too

Like Christmas ham

Deer meat will do

What fruitcakes can’t


Make a man strong

And able to aim

And give a man nerve

To stand up and get

A new Christmas gift

That didn’t come yet


I’ve bought laser sights

For I’m no fool

For a man can achieve

If he’s got good tools


So, I, frowning up,

Somehow, I learned

I figured it out

And I worked and I earned


Then I moved up north

North Pole, in fact

Where I’ll find, out now

What’s in the sack


As I learned, long ago

Santa lives there

And that red, so and so

He just doesn’t care


Cause he didn’t deliver

Maybe chimney to tight

See, I lost lots of sleep

On Christmas Eve night.


Listening for hooves

On the roof, all alone,

Till I then have enough

Now, North Pole is home.


‘Cause a long time back

I liked cowboy games

But I had no gun

So was Santa I’d blame.


Then I grew up mean

And a little bit rude

Just thought one thing.

It’s about attitude!


As I said, moved north

Close to Santa and sleigh

I’ve planned and I’m sure

He’ll fly by today.


Leaving, all loaded

With heavy red sack

I will take it all

There’s nothing I’ll lack.


And I’m sure and secure

In plan, in thought

Now I’ll shoot sleigh down

With this gun I bought


For he has to fly close

And he has to go low

Today’s Christmas Eve

He’ll be there, I know.


So, kids shouldn’t read

This old man’s rant

Though I should forgive

I still just can’t.


See, there ain’t no-one

Meaner than me

As I write I drink

Nutmeg in my tea.


And if has to be done

What I soon will do

Dhoot down those gifts

That were coming to you.


Me here so mug

In all vie said.

While sleep little ones

All tucked into bed.


As I think, kids move

As soon as you can.

I’ll make sure he survives,

That fat little man.


And I’ve heard there are herds

Of deer anyway

He could train more deer

To pull his new sleigh


While all of the elves

They stay behind

Making new toys

Of most any kind.


Though old as I is

I’ll do all I can

After shaking my fist

At that hairy old man.


Now don’t tell your folks.

They won’t believe anyway.

Bah and humbug,

That’s all they would say.


So, you, little ones

If you happen to hear

‘bout a man, up north

Eating reindeer.


Yardselling new toys

And scraping a slight

For those that got nothing

I’ll get even today.


Grow up and go north.

That’s my best advice.

When Santa is mean

You don’t have to be nice.


Still, I’ll let him go free,

He can but a new ride.

Kids grow up, get even,

That’s my advice.


Yet, I’ve got to add this

I’m no Scrooge at hart.

So, I’ll send best wishes

And here’s where they start.


Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas.

For any that lack.

Especially for me

When I open that sack.

About the author

Dee R. Lunbeck

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