A Christmas poem.
‘Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the yard
Santa was wondering-
‘When did things get so hard?’
Comet had a virus,
Blitzen pulled up lame.
Prancer had a stable cough,
And Vixen had the same.
Dancer had started napping,
And Donner had a splint.
And Rudolph’s nose no longer glowed,
And Dasher had a squint.
Vets bills were fast expanding,
The reindeer just weren’t fit,
Christmas eve was fast approaching!
St Nick was really in the shit.
Mrs Claus was worried,
But she is a tour de force-
“Santa we can solve this!”
She had a plan, of course.
“You need a beast with courage,
Who can fly and stay the course!
With guile and heart and intelligence.
Why, you need an event horse!”
Santa clapped his hands with glee!
Mrs Claus was right!
Now he just had to choose his team,
And all was saved come Christmas night.
It soon came time to load the sleigh,
And what a glorious sight!
Necks arched, ears pricked and all alert,
Coats gleaming in the moonlight.
Led by the greatest of all time,
The mighty Lenamore,
And after him came Sam and Jiff,
Then Nereo, that makes four.
In fifth was Summon Up The Blood,
Next to him came Chilli Morning,
Who looked a bit keen on Quicklook V,
So Santa gave him warning.
The final two brought up the rear,
Allstar B and Neville Bardos,
The scene was set and up they flew
With Santa’s super-cargo.
A little trouble with the brakes,
Lenamore pulled pretty hard.
A quick pitstop to change his bit,
And up they flew again, onward.
All went well until the pyramids,
Where Nereo had a spook,
“It’s fine!” Cried Sam, whilst locking on,
His brilliance is no fluke.
Around Big Ben and the Eiffel Tower
The team flew on relentless.
Sydney Harbour was a breeze,
For such magical eventers.
With such fine horsepower at the helm,
Santa was home in record time!
The horses never missed a beat,
Well-the line up was sublime.
Boys and girls around the world
Awoke to gifts galore,
With thanks to Santa and his steeds,
And the plucky Lenamore.
So if on Christmas night, you wake
To hooves upon the roof,
And soft whinnying in the dead of night,
Well now you have the proof-
Santa sacked his reindeer,
He saw the error of his ways.
He far prefers eventers
To deliver Christmas Day.
By Christa Dillon