THE DISPUTE UP AT
T'NORTH POLE

by
© Stan Brown

  There were some strange goin's on, in the dispatchin' shed,
Up north an' a touch t' the left.
Santa were there with 'is wife an' the elves,
An' t' convener, who's known as Big Seth.

'E were just three foot two, but that's big for an elf,
well, 'e's the biggest one I can remember.
'E'd just called a strike, Santa sez. "Get on yer bike,
It's the 24th day o' December."

"Listen 'ere buggerlugs." Sez Seth with a snarl.
"Yer'll not listen t' none of us gripes."
Then 'e drew 'imself up t' full height, an' 'e said.
"So bloody stick that in yer pipe!"

"We've been askin' for ages t' lower the bogs,
We can't get us selves on the seats.
An' we 'ave such a toil when we're 'avin' a wee,
That we do it all over us feet!"

Then 'e sez. "Now listen 'ere Fred." That's Santa's real name,
Well, actually it's Freddy MacBrine.
It isn't really yer see, but between you an' me,
It makes it much easier t' rhyme."
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