SANTA CLAUS OR WAS HE?

SANTA CLAUS OR WAS HE?

 A dead-ringer for Santa (‘The job has been done…”)

thought on a bit further (“Think I’ll have me some fun…”) 

So he ‘phoned Holly Berry:

coquettish and pretty,

and he honed her a poem:

a neat, witty ditty.

They met up that evening

and he plied her with sherry –

put logs on the fire:

the scene was so merry!

The music played soft;

the atmosphere dreamy.

Holly was curvaceous – her skin oh so creamy…

But Santa, it proved, was not as he seemed,

and the end of the evening was not how he dreamed…

Holly pulled out a gun, and said:

“Mister you’re rumbled!”

Shocked, he fell off the couch

and on the floor tumbled…

“You’re not Holly Berry! Oh dear me, oh my!”

“No, you false Father Christmas,

I am a mint spy!”

Joy Lennick