In the next two days, I am going to focus my posts on Christmas. I so hope you don’t mind. π As I mentioned in my post on traditions, we read the story of A Night Before Christmas every Christmas Eve. In this post I want to share the Aussie version with you. It was adapted by Yvonne Morrison and in the book I have the illustrations were done by Kilmeny Niland.
An Aussie Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas;
there wasn’t a sound.
Not a possum was stirring;
no-one was around.
We’d left on the table
some tucker and beer
Hoping that Santa Claus
soon would be here;
We children were snuggled up safe in our bed,
While dreams of pavlova danced round in our heads;
And Mum in her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,
Had just settled down to watch TV sports,
When outside the house
a mad ruckus arose:
Loud squeaking and bangning
woke us from our doze.
We ran to the screen door,
peeked cautiously out,
Snuck onto the deck,
then let out a shout.
Guess what had woken us up
from our snooze,
But a rusty old ute
pulled by eight mighty ‘roos.
The cheerful man driving
was giggling with glee,
And we both knew at once
who this plump bloke must be.
Now, I’m telling the truth – it’s all dinki-di,
Those eight kangaroos fairly soared through the sky.
Santa leaned out the window to pull at the reind,
And encouraged the ‘roos, by calling their names.
‘Now, Kylie! Now, Kirsty!
Now, Shazza and Shane!
On, Kipper! On, Skipper!
On, Bazza and Wayne!
Park up on that water tank,
Grab a quick drink,
I’ll scoot down the gum tree,
Be back in a wink!’
So up to the tank
those eight kangaroos flew,
With the ute full of toy,
and Santa Claus too.
He slid down the gum tree
and jumped to the ground,
Then in through the windo
he sprang with a bound.
He had bright sunburned cheeks
and a milky white beard.
A jolly old joker
was how he appeared.
He wore red stubby shorts
and old thongs on his feet,
And a hat of deep crimson
as shade from the heat.
His eyes – bright as opals –
Oh! how they twinkled!
And, like a goanna,
his skin was quite wrinkled!
His shirt was stretched over
a round bulging belly
Which shook when he moved,
like a plate full of jelly.
A fat sack of prezzies
he flung from his back,
And he looked like a swaggie
unfastening his pack.
He spoke not a word,
but bent down on one knee,
To position our goodies
beneath the Yule tree.
Surfboard and footy-ball shapes
for us two.
And for Dad, tongs to use
on the new barbeque.
A mysterious package
he left for our mum,
Then he turned and he winked
and he held up his thumb;
He strolled out on deck and his ‘roos came on cue’
Flung his sack in the back
and prepared to shoot through.
He bellowed out loud
as they swooped past the gates –
‘Merry Christmas to all,
and goodonya mates!’
sorry Sis I like the original one but I do have both on my coffee table
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I like the original also but this one makes me laugh. π
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What fun! thanks.
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You’re welcome Mona. I hope you’re enjoying your break. π
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I love it.
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Thank you Miss April, although I do believe that your version was much better. π
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My husband would call my version the “smarty pants” version. That’s what he likes to call me when I get in those types of mood. It makes me happy. π
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Thanks for sharing.
Irene
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You are very welcome Irene. π
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Terrific! So glad you shared this. We have seen Cajun Christmas, but not Aussie Christmas! Merry Christmas to you no matter where you live!
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I like how people are making this wonderful poem their own in so many ways. It’s great fun! π
Merry Christmas to you also Rusha. π
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I like it! Especially leaving Santa some tucker and beer!
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I thought that was pretty cool π
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