I thought that you folks Over There might like to experience the flavour of an Aussie Christmas, so here’s a ’seasonal’ poem. High literature it ain’t - enjoy!
BTW, as I write this, I’m sitting at my desk in a sarong, looking out the window at the mangoes beginning to blush on our big old tree. Meanwhile, it’s raining - steady subtropical wet stuff, with a sauna to follow when the sun comes out and sucks all the moisture out of the ground. I’m finally considering air conditioning. *sigh*
‘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 beds,
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 banging 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 reins,
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 toys, and Santa Claus too.
He slid down the gum tree and jumped to the ground,
Then in through the window 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 stack 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!’
Let me know if there’s something you’re curious about.For example, Shazza and Bazza are the nicknames for Sharon and Barry, respectively. Not something a foreigner might intuit!
Hope your Christmas was simply wonderful, full of love and ease. Mine wasn’t too damn bad at all! I know I’m blessed and I’m infinitely grateful.
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Oh my god, i loved this poem.
I printed it out and put it on the wall in the pub.
Everyone loved it, the Marrar hotel in regional NSW are now Rossetti fans and the biggest critic, my other half decided he likes your writing to Denise, well he liked the poem he still is holding comment about the romantic books.
Great work loved the reindeers names,
Sara
Oh my heavens, Sara, it never occurred to me that you might think I wrote the poem! Ack! But now I read over the post, I can see you could take it that way.
So - in the interests of honesty - I have to say, I didn’t write it and I’ve no idea who did, it came to me via email from a friend. It’s good though, isn’t it?
The poem actually reminded me of my childhood. I grew up in a country town and in those days speaking like that was normal, although having an English father meant I also learned to speak ‘proper’ English. Aussie slang isn’t so common now - I have to go west to hear people talk that way naturally. In a way it’s sad that we’re losing the vernacular as it gives a very clear picture of Australia’s heritage.
This was so cool! I love it.
Very clever - I too thought you had put the Aussie slant to the classic version. Cheers to whoever wrote it.
Being a foreigner I could intuit most of it - but could you clarify “ute” and “goodonya”. I’m sure we Americans have some slang that doesnt quite translate either, but it’s always fun to learn new terms.
(I’m hoping it’s not something as simple as sleigh and goodnight or I’ll feel stupid for asking 
) Oh and what is pavlova?
As I sit here in a sweater and look out my window at a couple feet of snow, I’ll think of you wishing for air conditioning…
Happy Holidays.
I love Aussie slang but is it going the way of the American southern accent? Its seldom we hear a really good southern “drawl” like we used to. We don’t have anything like “a couple feet of snow” but had snow the day before and the Sunday after Christmas which is whiter than it usual for this section of the US midwest. Happy New Year to all.
Loved the poem! Happy New Year from a cold and vey white (it’s a long time since we’ve had so much snow!)Finland.
Elaine, I remember my step-grandad speaking whole sentences of slang I simply didn’t understand, being a little Pommie kid almost fresh off the boat. He was a wharfie (a longshoreman).
Devon - a “ute” is a utility vehicle, what you’d call a truck, with a cabin and flat bed or tray thing behind. Goodonya is “Good on you” all run together and spoken in a single breath. An expression of approval and friendship. Pavlova is a fabulous meringue-type desert made out of egg white and sugar and cream and dressed with fresh fruit. We had one Christmas Day. Wiki it - was named for the Russian ballerina.
HAve a Happy New Year Denise and everyone.
I love the poem. It is just exact and perfect. Describes the atmosphere here to a T
Eva,
)
The European family LOVE our weather here and go to the beach every single day for hours at a time. Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong country. 
I am so envious. The green scales are litterally dripping off me.
I love the Cold weather and here I live in a country that is Tropical and getting warmer all the time. (maybe I am just feeling it more the older I get
This time last year we were in Denn Hagg with Dutch rellies icy cold-but no snow. Then we took a bus trip through ITALY and we had snow storm in Turino and MIlano. I was in heaven. Loved it even though I know it can be the scouge for people to get about.
I feel I can always add on clothing for warmth but when you’ve stripped eveything off and are still so hot there’s no where else to go but fans, A/C and cold water. and that can go on for months…
Cute poem. I could hear it in my head while I read it.
And a HAPPY NEW YEAR to All!!!
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