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  Sleighed, a funny, happy Christmas poem by Australian poet Graeme King, where Santa gets some extra speed from the sleigh. ©kingpoetry2008.

 
SLEIGHED by Graeme King
You're welcome to download this flash spoken poem. Right-click HERE and choose SAVE AS. Open with Internet Explorer.

Old Santa met with all the elves, and told them with a grin:

“I’ve finished working on the sleigh, let’s take it for a spin,

I’d like to test my go-fast plan and try it out for pace,

this year we’ll win that pennant for the Easter-Christmas Race!”

 

The race was held each year, about a week from Christmas Day,

that Easter Bunny ran too well, he always hared away,

poor Santa heard his taunting, as he moved ahead so fast:

“Don’t think you’re coming second, Santa – think of it as LAST!”

 

The elves went to the garage, to inspect the tricked-up sleigh,

“It seems to look the same to me,” one elf was heard to say,

“I haven’t changed the sled,” said Santa, “that won’t make it quick,

the reindeer that will pull the thing – now THAT’S my magic trick!

 

“Old Dasher’s been in training now since February third,

and Dancer’s taking flying lessons from a speedy bird,

that Prancer’s had his antlers done, quite stylishly, of course,

but now he gets some extra speed because of downward force!

 

“Dear Vixen’s on a diet, and he’s lost a lot of weight,

and Comet’s been out jogging, every day from three till late,

poor Cupid had a gammy leg, could hardly even walk,

the doctor gave him magic pills: he’s turned into a hawk!

 

“Now Donner’s into yoga he’s as fast as he can get,

and Blitzen’s drinking rocket fuel, he flies just like a jet,

old Rudolph’s breaking records, every run’s a new P.B.

Schumaker gave him lessons, and he won the last Grand Prix!”

 

He harnessed up the reindeer, yelled “Ho Ho!” and told the elves:

“You fellers wait right there a tick, and talk amongst yourselves,”

the sleigh took off at such a speed it blew off half their caps,

as Santa took his racy rig out for a few “sick laps.”

 

It’s common knowledge now, of course, that Santa won the race,

the Easter Bunny ate his dust, got egg upon his face,

the North Pole holds the pennant, and will keep it till next year,

it reads: “To Father Christmas and his lightning fast reindeer!”

more of my FUNNY POEMS here

more of my CHRISTMAS POEMS here

Original pictures by Graeme King ©Kingpoetry2008  BACK to TOP