Friday, 13 December 2013

Neet Befoor Christmas at t'Lane

It wer t'neet befoor Christmas, wen all thru t'Lane
No noise or stirrin - just like a Wednesday game.
T'stockings hung in each office n t'changin' room wi' care,
Hopin' owd St Nick 'd soon be there.
T'players were nestled all snug at 'om in their beds,
While visions of Adizeros and Nike Tiempos danced in their 'eads.
Clough in his 'jamas, and socks on 'is tooers,
'ad settled is brain for a long winter’s dooerz.
When out on t'pitch there were a reyt loud clatter,
I sprang to mi feet to see what wer a matter.
Away t'winda I flew like a flash,
Tore op'n t'curtains an' threw up t'sash.
T'moon shone it's leet on t'new-fallen snow
Gave t'lustre o' mid-day to t'objects below.
When, reyt befoor my wondering eyes shud appear,
But a reyt tiny sleigh, and eight little reindeer.
Wi' a little old driver so lively n quick,
I thought reyt away tha must be St. Nick.
More rapid than John Francis 'is coursers they came,
An' 'e whistled, an' shouted, 'e called them by name:
"Nah, Deano! nah, Jags! nah Agana n Morgan!
On, Woody! on, Currie! on, Nudger n Hagan!
T' top of t'stand! And o'er top of t'wall!
Nah gerr away! gerr away! gerr away all!"
Like pie boxes and litter before t'wild winds fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount up to t'sky;
So up t'Kop roof the coursers they flew
Wi' t'sleigh full er presents, nt'bearded bloke too—
And then, in a twinklin, I heard from t'roof
Not Gary Sinclair in't speakers, but pawing of hoof.
As I drew in mi 'ead, an wer turning around,
Dahn inter t'boardroom a bearded bloke bound.
He wor dressed all in fur, red wor 'is suit,
His clothes all tarnished an' wi' sand grains on 'is boots;
A bundle of pressies he 'ad flung on 'is back,
He looked like a street hawker just op'nin his pack.
'is eyes—by 'eck they twinkled! 'is dimples, how merry!
'is cheeks were like roorses, his nooerse like a cherry!
His frosty moustache covered 'is gob below,
And t'beard on 'is chin glistened wit' snow;
'e loaded t'manager's desk wi' coins from t'East,
To spend wisely in January, no more famine just feast;
He had a broad face n a reyt round belly
That shook when 'e laughed, like a bowl full er jelly.
He were chubby n plump, like jolly old men,
And I chuckled when I saw him, in spite of mi sen;
A wink er 'is eye n a twist of his 'ead
Soon let mi know I 'ad nowt to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight t'is work,
An 'e filled all t'stockings; then turned wi' a jerk,
An'  laying his finger at side on 'is nose,
An' geein' a nod, back t'stand roof 'e rose;
'e sprang to his sleigh, to 'is team gi' a whistle,
An' away they all flew like t'down off a thistle.
But I heard him shaht aht, as 'e flew o'er t'wall—
“Here's to more three point outcomes and Happy Christmas to all”
Maybe that bearded visitor wasn't St Nick after all.....................

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