Apologies for non posting of Christmas poems since 18th, but I have had the dreaded lurgy! Anyway this poem seemed rather appropriate – I hope you enjoy it!

PANIC AT SANTA’S FACTORY

Poor Santa was all in a flap,

with hundreds of presents to wrap.

Influenza had caused

the factory to pause,

and the Elves were taking a nap.

***

‘I’ll have to recruit all the gnomes.’

‘No way,’ said the Elves, ‘not the gnomes.

Their wrapping is poor,

they’ll drop them for sure.

Please, Santa, don’t ask the gnomes.’

***

Santa Claus shook his head.

‘Unless you find someone instead,

what else can I do

when you’ve all got the flu,

and you have to stay tucked up in bed?’

***

So, the Elves made a magical potion,

a potion to get them in motion.

The thought of the gnomes

packing presents for homes,

was certainly not the best notion!

***

They worked for a day and a night

and Santa helped out with their plight,

and before very long,

with hard work and a song,

they had the delivery in sight.

***

‘Thank-you,’ said Santa, at last.

‘My journey will have to be fast.

I must fly round the earth

for all I am worth,’

and he left with a flash and a blast.

***

As Santa flew off on his sleigh

the elves all shouted, ‘hooray!’

Then they started to cough

as the potion wore off

and slept their way through Christmas Day.