Tis the season
Poem: Tis the season
I don’t sing of its twelve days
Or what a true love would be sending to me
To decorate a tree?
i’d rather have a satsuma or drink a cup of tea
What is all the fuss about?
I much prefer mushy peas than a sorry brussel sprout
The getting together for just one day of the year. Some say hooray, others shed a woeful tear
But it’s a tradition
Going from here to there can be a mission
I don’t get all flustered and frantic
No desire to see a phoney St. Nick and go transatlantic
I don’t tuck myself in with a pig in blanket
ask me about the mulled wine, well I’ve…already drank it
Review: Tis the season
The poet appears to be referencing the well-known Christmas song featuring twelve days. You know, the one with partridges in pear trees and other delightful avian creatures; the turtle doves, the geese, swans and the French hens. But hang on a minute though, why French? Is there a problem with British hens? Surely one or two could be spared for the song? Or is there something else that’s not quite right here? Was a vote taken to determine which sort of hens would be more suitable for the song? Are French hens more sophisticated? Do they have a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ about their pecking beaks? Perhaps it’s a revolutionary clucking spirit? Is that the appeal? I do hope they are politically neutral birds though. I am not one to reveal my political leaning here but let’s just say I’d be curious to learn of a Che Guevara chicken and to know of the where abouts of a “Reform’ Rooster”. But that’s another story for another time for ‘chicken clucks’ sake! Anyway, back to the poem. I thought it was just the one day, with Christmas DAY itself on the 25th December. Ok, then there is the Christmas Eve and the Boxing day too. Sure I get that. Have Christmas Day sandwiched between the two. Cosy!
I’ve done a bit of research and what’s said in the song is indeed true. Officially there are twelve days of it. It starts on Christmas day and continues into the new year.
The poet does not want to decorate a tree! But that is the tradition is it not? (well, at least one of them!) All things to be jollied along and gotten on with! Jingle those bells! But listen carefully dear reader. Christmas is…wait for it… German!
No, you have not misread this! It has got nothing to do the baby Jesus, and there were no biblical baby Jürgen’s born in a manger on Christmas day. So why was the ‘decorating a tree thing’ done in the first place you may ask? Well, that’s the German bit. The Germanic peoples were all at it! Chopping down trees, bringing them indoors and decorating them. It’s a cheery thing to do during the dark winter according to the Queen of England at the time, good old Her Maj from way back in the day, Queen Victoria. She was a bit German you see, and so was her husband, Prince Albert. Christmas therefore if one chooses to look at certain facts, is a bit German. Germany held the first Christmas market! ‘Das ist cool!’ is what I would say. Embrace the season, Embrace differences! Embrace a German – it is Christmas after all!
But it is too much time wasting for the poet by the sounds of it. The poet would prefer to drink tea and eat fruit. Now that’s a healthy option yes!
When it comes to the traditional veg however, I am inclined to agree with the poet. For me it’s certainly a big fat NO when it comes to any sprout. Each to their own, and all that, sure BUT some might say, (not me of course) but who in their right mind would choose to eat something that smells like rotten eggs?! Mushy peas to the rescue! Thank you poet for the inspiration. I also think that making so much of a fuss for just the one day is not needed. It’s a season for goodness sake! Twelve days of it so take your pick! Make it work for you dear reader! Some do indeed look forward to it and celebrate it! But there are a lot of stories and indeed traditions. A lot to keep up with if one was to take all on board. Again, take your pick dear reader. The poet also refers to St Nicholas but not in the religious manner where folk, way back in the day would pray to this saint who was Greek in origin and is the patron saint of children. Before sainthood he was known for being a kind and generous fellow. Nice. Jump straight into ‘now a days o’clock’ and the modern-day version of this saint is where the poet refers to him as phoney. Surely not, a fake? Why is this? St Nicholas is called ‘Father Christmas’ here in Britain but known as ‘Santa Claus’ in America deriving from northern Europe. Folk do refer to him as ‘santa’ in the U.K too. What a popular guy, this “Christmas Pops is.” He sounds too jolly to be fake, no? Let’s investigate further.
He supposedly lives in the North Pole. Fine, I accept that bit as people do move around and get about. He’s magical. Hmm? He’s a plump old white man with a long white beard. He owns reindeers, but listen to this: At night on Christmas Eve good old Father Christmas takes to the skies with his reindeer and they fly. Not in an aeroplane but straight up in the air with the trotting and galloping! But there’s more to it than that! He stop’s off at every household across the world. He has a list of all the names of boys and girls and ‘checking it twice not just the once to see who’s been naughty or nice’ as it say’s in the song. That’s a cute bit of rhyming. I’m sure the poet would like that. Or has the poet not made it to the nice list and has been a bit naughty? Hmm? Potentially another story for another time. What does the poet consider to be naughty I wonder?
Anyway, back to Papa Christmas. He then proceeds to climb down the chimneys of all the household’s of children who are on the ‘nice’ list. He has a mince pie then leaves gift wrapped presents under a decorated tree for the children.
On my last count there are just over two billion people aged under eighteen and yes, I used my fingers and toes to do this as well as current data from UNICEF. That’s more fingers and toes to help with the numbers. Numbers to estimate that around one billion mince pies would be consumed by Father Christmas (yes, I’m British that’s why I call him that and also I say things like, Alright mate, Bro, I’m so chuffed, not my cup of tea bruv and no sex please!
Did I or do I still believe in this story of the St Nicholas in the 21st century? No, not when he is associated with a tooth rotting carbonated beverage, certainly not! That’s not exactly championing children is it now? If he continues like this he’ll upset the tooth fairy and render her potless! That’s not very ‘Christmassy’ is it?
No doubt, my guessing, the poet likes to be warm and cosy at this time of the year. Who doesn’t eh? Wrapped up in a blanket yes, but not with a pig! Of course not poet. Who would? Oh, how I’m laughing out loud .It’s funny how the poet is making the association of the popular Christmas day main meal with the mini sausages wrapped in bacon, those pigs in blankets. As for the mulled wine, and by the sounds of it, the poet hasn’t waited and has had it already. For that reason alone I think that’s why the poet didn’t make it on to the ‘nice’ list.
But the poet has played nicely with words. Amusing and nice rhyming throughout.and I’ve enjoyed reading the poet’s way with how they celebrate Christmas. Minimal fuss and avoiding the unnecessary. I find that very nice and inspiring, I think that the poet deserves to go on the nice list.
Merry Christmas to ‘that poet’ and wishing you a very happy New Year.