Christmas Swine

A Christmas Poem

by Lee

Christmas time has come again,
But something isn't right,
The North Pole is in disarray,
Not ready for Christmas night.

It started up a week ago,
Among the workshop elves,
Who were stacking fresh made piggy banks,
Upon the cooling shelves.







Someone got too careless,
And dropped a pig or two,
That very day a hundred elves,
Contracted the Swine Flu!

The workshop has been quarantined,
The reindeer don't feel well,
Santa has been vomiting,
And having dizzy spells.

Cleanup efforts have begun,
And Hazmat teams deployed,
The workshop has been sanitized,
The piggy banks destroyed.

Santa's getting better now,
And things are back on track,
They even started loading toys,
In Santa's giant sack.

Work has started up again,
But still there is some fear,
"How long will it take" they ask,
"To cure all these reindeer?"

Dasher and the other guys,
Were looked at by the Vet,
"I've done all I can," he said,
"But no improvement, yet."
So analysts and engineers
are looking for a way
To make sure Santa has a ride
In time for Christmas Day.

UPS will be no help,
They reported with a frown,
They won't let Santa drive their truck,
Unless his suit is brown.

They ruled out Northwest Airline flights,
And shiny disc balloons
"You never know where they will fly,
And their pilots are buffoons."

Captain "Sully" Sullenberger
Said he could deliver,
But only if the plan includes
A landing on a river.



They took a vote and settled on
A plan of what to do,
To fix the problems caused by this
Obnoxious oinker flu.



In case the reindeer, Christmas Eve,
Can't carry out their gig,
Santa's transportation team,
Arranged for flying pigs.

They gave the news to Santa Clause,
In hushed and solemn voices,
"It must be flying pigs this year,
There are no other choices."

"They're not so fast, and smell a bit,
But we think that you will find,
What's even worse is what comes from
Eight sick reindeer behinds."



"Before you ask the question,
Although it seems outrageous,
These pigs might have H1N1,
But they are not contagious."

Santa said, "If you insist,
I must do what you say,
Get these flying pigs prepared,
To pull my Christmas sleigh!"

So if you wake on Christmas Eve,
To the sound of jingling bells,
Listen close, and you may hear,
Kris Kringle as he yells:

"On Bacon, on Sausage,
On Porkchop, on Cutlet,
On Sparerib, on Saltpork,
On Hamhock, on Riblet!"

And please forgive the messiness,
You find on your rooftop:
A line of muddy pig hoofprints,
And a pile of Christmas slop.

We owe these pigs our gratitude,
Don't fear that Swine flu bug,
The next time that you have a chance,
Please give a pig a hug.

And that's the story, boys and girls,
Of why Two-thousand-nine,
Will go down in the history books,
As the year of Christmas swine.

Merry Christmas!