Santa's Beard Poem?!!!

Discussion in 'Off-Topic Chat' started by Rambo Chick, Dec 13, 2007.

  1. Rambo Chick

    Rambo Chick Member

    I'm trying to find a christmas poem. Its starts off something like....

    It was Christmas day int’ workshop and santa was resting at home
    In excitement he opened a parcel to discover a spray can of foam

    You too can be smooth as a snowman it said as he ruffled his jaw
    Frowning he looked at the label, it was a gift from his mother in law

    This was something he often had dreaded, a moment he often had feared
    She could put up with his boots and his reindeer but she couldn’t put up with his beard....:wink:

    and it carries on like this. does anyone know this? and where I can get the rest of the poem?

    All help gratefully received!:rolleyes:

    Thank you!

  2. Masterblaster jnr

    Masterblaster jnr Active Member

    1. No, i don't know it

    2. I wouldn't particularly want to find the rest of the poem, seems a bit corny :wink:
  3. Rambo Chick

    Rambo Chick Member

    That's the idea!:tongue: It is amusing! I remember my dad reciting it many years ago when I was little.......oh......

  4. michellegarbutt

    michellegarbutt Supporting Member

    Tried googling it but couldn't find it but this one did come up

    He wasn't too good with a razor
    and every time he would try,
    Kris Kringle would cut himself shaving,
    so badly it caused him to cry.

    The towns people laughed when they saw him
    with cut marks all over his face.
    He felt so embarrassed and foolish
    he'd lower his head in disgrace.

    So one day he threw out his razor
    and all of the towns people cheered.
    No longer would santa be shaving
    instead he was growing a beard.

    But though he has given up shaving
    and grown out a beard white and thick,
    most folks still remember those cut marks
    and thats why they call him Saint Nick.
  5. Roger Thorne

    Roger Thorne Active Member

    Can't help you with Santa's Beard, but how about Marriot Edgars famous poem Albert and the Lion?

    There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool,
    That's noted for fresh-air and fun,
    And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
    Went there with young Albert, their son.

    A grand little lad was their Albert
    All dressed in his best; quite a swell
    'E'd a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle
    The finest that Woolworth's could sell.

    They didn't think much to the ocean
    The waves, they was fiddlin' and small
    There was no wrecks... nobody drownded
    'Fact, nothing to laugh at, at all.

    So, seeking for further amusement
    They paid and went into the zoo
    Where they'd lions and tigers and cam-els
    And old ale and sandwiches too.

    There were one great big lion called Wallace
    His nose were all covered with scars
    He lay in a som-no-lent posture
    With the side of his face to the bars.

    Now Albert had heard about lions
    How they were ferocious and wild
    And to see Wallace lying so peaceful
    Well... it didn't seem right to the child.

    So straight 'way the brave little feller
    Not showing a morsel of fear
    Took 'is stick with the'orse's 'ead 'andle
    And pushed it in Wallace's ear!

    You could see that the lion didn't like it
    For giving a kind of a roll
    He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im
    And swallowed the little lad... whole!

    Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence
    And didn't know what to do next
    Said, "Mother! Yon lions 'et Albert"
    And Mother said "Eeh, I am vexed!"

    So Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
    Quite rightly, when all's said and done
    Complained to the Animal Keeper
    That the lion had eaten their son.

    The keeper was quite nice about it
    He said, "What a nasty mishap
    Are you sure that it's your lad he's eaten?"
    Pa said, "Am I sure? There's his cap!"

    So the manager had to be sent for
    He came and he said, "What's to do?"
    Pa said, "Yon lion's 'eaten our Albert
    And 'im in his Sunday clothes, too."

    Then Mother said, "Right's right, young feller
    I think it's a shame and a sin
    For a lion to go and eat Albert
    And after we've paid to come in!"

    The manager wanted no trouble
    He took out his purse right away
    And said, "How much to settle the matter?"
    And Pa said "What do you usually pay?"

    But Mother had turned a bit awkward
    When she thought where her Albert had gone
    She said, "No! someone's got to be summonsed"
    So that were decided upon.

    Round they went to the Police Station
    In front of a Magistrate chap
    They told 'im what happened to Albert
    And proved it by showing his cap.

    The Magistrate gave his o-pinion
    That no-one was really to blame
    He said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms
    Would have further sons to their name.

    At that Mother got proper blazing
    "And thank you, sir, kindly," said she
    "What waste all our lives raising children
    To feed ruddy lions? Not me!"

    There's quite a few Christmassy poems here:


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