How Boris Stole Christmas
A Festive Parody
Every person in England
Liked Christmas a lot.
But ol’ Boris who lived in
Downing Street did not!
~
Boris hated Christmas!
The whole festive season!
Now, please don’t ask why.
No one quite knows the reason.
~
It could be, perhaps,
That his suit was too tight.
It could be his hair
Wasn’t styled just right.
~
But I think the most
Likely reason of all
May just be that Boris
Had no friends at all.
~
But, despite the true reason,
His friends or his suit,
This Christmas’s his gloom
Was rather acute,
~
He thought of each person
In Great Britain, knowing
That they’re probably reading
This parody poem.
~
He sulked in his office
With a sour, Tory frown.
Didn’t he like
Being the talk of the town?
~
“They’ll laugh with their loved ones,
They’ll laugh with their family.
It’s really not fair
That I’m stuck here with Carrie!”
~
Then he growled, and he plotted,
And then started planning,
“I must find some way
To keep Christmas from coming!
~
“I’ve locked them indoors,
I’ve shut down all business,
How many more ways
To put the kibosh on Christmas?
~
“The voters say Santa Claus
Fills them with glee,
But if I could be Santa,
They’d love ME! ME! ME! ME!
~
“Then all Brits, young and old,
From Hove to Dundee.
They’ll feast! And they’ll cheer!
They’ll praise ME! ME! ME! ME!
~
“We’ll stand close together,
They’ll join me in singing.
We’ll stand hand-in-hand,
no social distancing!”
~
“They’ll sing! And they’ll sing!
And they’ll SING! SING! SING! SING!”
And so Boris decided,
“I must stop this whole thing!
~
“Why for fifty-six years
I’ve put up with it now!
I have to stop Christmas from coming!
…But how?”
~
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
BoJo had a wonderful, awful idea!
~
“I know just what to do!”
Boris laughed in his throat.
“I’ll become Covid Claus
With a special hat and coat!”
~
And he chuckled and clucked,
“A classic BoJo gag,
“With my new coat and hat
Boris Day’s in the bag!”
~
“All I need is a driver…”
Boris looked around.
But, they were all made redundant,
So none could be found.
Did that stop Boris?
No! Boris simply said,
“If I can’t find a driver,
I’ll make one instead!”
~
Johnson called his mate, Hancock,
Then he took some red thread
And tied a rubber phallus
To the top of his head.
~
He coughed into some bags
And some old empty sacks,
Put them in the boot
And began his attack.
~
Then Boris said, “Tally ho!”
And his car started down
Towards the homes where Londoners
Lay a-snooze in their town.
All their windows were dark,
Quiet snow filled the air.
All the Brits were all dreaming
Sweet dreams without care…
When he came to the first
little house on the square,
~
“This is stop number one,”
The old Covid Claus hissed,
As he climbed up a roof,
Viral bags in his fist.
~
Then he slid down the chimney,
A rather tight pinch.
But if Santa could do it,
Then so could Boris.
~
He got stuck only once,
For a minute or two.
Then he stuck his head
Out of the fireplace flue.
~
A family, in their bubble,
Were all tucked up in bed.
“Their grandmas,” he grinched,
“Are the first who’ll be dead!”
~
Then he slithered and slunk,
With a smile most unpleasant,
Shook his bag around the room,
And infected all present!
~
“The wife gets long Covid,
The husband can too,
Your daughter looks healthy…
So a new strain for you!”
~
When he’d emptied his bags
Boris, very nimbly,
Stuffed all of their masks,
One by one, up the chimney!
~
Then he slunk to the closet.
He took the hand sanitiser!
He took all their gloves!
He took their new visors!
~
He cleaned out their wallets
As quick as a flash.
Boris made sure to take
All their bank cards and cash!
~
Then he stuffed all his swag
Up the chimney with glee.
“And NOW!” Boomed Boris,
“I will stuff up the tree!”
~
So Boris grabbed the tree,
and he started to shove,
When he heard a small sound
like the coo of a dove.
~
He feared he’d been caught
When he thought he was free!
But it was just Jenny Moore,
who was no more than three.
~
He baffled her with words,
He turned on the charm,
“I’m Santa’s friend, Covid Claus.
No cause for alarm.”
~
She stared at Boris
and said, “Covid Claus, why,”
“Why are you taking
our Christmas tree? WHY?”
~
And even though Boris
Was terrified of kids,
He thought up a lie,
About open tender bids.
~
“My sweet little swot,”
Ol’ BoJo lied quick,
“If a pleb’s touched this tree
It might make you sick.”
~
“There’s NHS elves,
Sub-contracted, my dear.
Who’ll clean up your tree.
And bring it back here.”
~
Having reassured the child
With promises untrue,
He sent her to bed
And stole from her too.
~
With Jenny Moore’s teddy
Stuffed into a sack
He went to the chimney,
And thrust up the tree with a wack!
~
Then he took every last thing
Every scrap and spare tyre!
Then he went up the chimney,
himself, the old liar.
In their home he left nothing
But formal attire.
~
And the one speck of food
That he left in the house,
Was a crumb that was even
Too small for a mouse.
~
Then he did the same thing
To the other Brits’ houses
Leaving crumbs much too small
For the other Brits’ mouses!
~
It was quarter to dawn.
Clocks quiet on bedsides,
All the Brits were asleep,
As he packed up his ride,
~
He packed it with their laptops,
Their wodges and spaffings,
Their mugwumps and fuzzles,
Their boondoggles and trappings!
~
As he rode back with Hancock
Down a quiet London road,
Not questioning how it all fit
In a single carload.
~
“Pooh-pooh to the Brits!”
He was Tory-ly humming.
“If they ever catch me,
I’ll just blame it on Cummings!
~
They’re just waking up!
I know just what they’ll do!
Their mouths will hang open
A minute or two,
Then the Brits across Britain
Will all cry boo-hoo!
~
That’s a noise,” grinned Boris,
“that I simply must hear!”
Then he paused, and Boris
Put a hand to his ear.
~
And he did hear a sound
Rising over the snow.
It started in low,
Then it started to grow.
~
But this sound wasn’t sad!
Why, this sound sounded glad!
~
Every Briton in Britain,
The tall and the small,
Celebrated without
Any Covid at all!
~
He hadn’t stopped Christmas
From coming! It came!
Somehow or other,
It came just the same!
~
And Boris, with his feet
Now ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling.
“How could it be so?
~
It came without fevers!
It came without coughs!
It came despite all the
deaths and lay-offs”
~
Boris ate as he thought
And he thought as he ate,
Then he had an idea
That made his heart race.
~
“Maybe Britain,” he thought,
“Doesn’t need hyperbole.
Maybe Britons, perhaps,
Need a little less me!”
~
And what happened then?
Well, in London they say
That Boris’ suit shrank
Three more sizes that day!
~
Just then, as the meaning
Of Christmas came through,
And Boris’ suit split
Down the middle in two!
~
Embarrassed and friendless
With nowhere to go,
He decided to drive
Full speed to Heathrow.
~
With his life now in pieces,
Like public finance,
Boris drove as he lived:
By the seat of his pants.
~
Through passport control
He could be seen rushing,
Grumbling “Bloody oiks!”
And practicing Russian.
~
And nobody noticed
Or missed him the least.
But some say that ol’ Boris
Was last seen fleeing East.
