A Whale of a Christmas Tale
Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 6:12 am
Here's a new Christmas poem. For children? Perhaps not…
A Whale of a Christmas Tale
It's freezing in the far North Pole, as everybody knows.
The temperature is icy, and a cold wind howls and blows.
Santa sends his reindeer south to keep them in their prime.
He doesn't mind, as long as they return at Christmas time.
Of course, there is no land up there. The journey's fairly grim.
Across the many leads of water sometimes they must swim.
One year a pod of killer whales were aching for a feast.
If they swallowed deer or dolphin meat, it mattered not the least.
Rudolph's head was bitten off, and tossed into the air,
Then what was left was passed around so all could have their share.
Prancer's chest was buffeted, but he was kept alive
To teach the babies how to kill, and help the pod to thrive.
At last the reindeer all were dead. The killer whales were full.
The feasting had been hearty for each calf and cow and bull.
The killer whales yawned and stretched, and slowly moved away,
And that was very nearly all that anyone might say.
However, this was witnessed by a puffin overhead.
He raced to tell poor Santa that his herd of deer was dead.
Recalling all the details, he recounted, blow by blow,
Each death, till Santa silenced him: "I do not need to know!
"But thank you, little puffin, you've discharged your duty well.
My elves, they will reward you." Then he rang his little bell
In the hope that maybe one poor deer had lived to pull his sleigh,
But silence was his answer, and the clouds turned steely grey.
Santa pursed his lips and paced, his arms behind his back.
He didn't see it on the ice - at first a little crack,
But wide it grew and wider. Santa Claus was lost in thought.
Then suddenly, in icy water Santa Claus was caught!
He tried to swim, but found his boots and clothing pulled him down.
Was Santa, King of Winter, bound to sink, and simply drown?
He felt his body dropping. All around was turning black.
His little elves were powerless to bring his body back.
The next he knew, he lay behind a whale's dorsal fin.
With their squeaking and their whistling sounds, they made a fearful din.
The killer whale then arched its back, and tossed him on the ice.
Santa briefly thought he had arrived in Paradise,
But he soon came to his senses. No, he wasn't dead at all.
Somehow he'd been rescued from the ocean's icy thrall.
He rose to thank his saviours, who were milling back and forth.
"Life is never boring when you live at farthest North!
"But tell me, first you eat my deer, and now you rescue me.
Why? There is no reason, or no logic I can see.
What am I to make of you? You're bad, but also good.
I guess I'm pretty lucky you were in my neighbourhood.
"Well, come on then, there's work to do. I'm sure that you can fly
As well as any reindeer can, so, take me to the sky.
Lift my sleigh with all its gifts, and take me round the Earth,
So another Christmas night with Santa's visit may take birth.”
There was little time for practice. There was no time to rehearse.
They did not improve on reindeer. Then again, they were no worse.
So if, perchance, you catch a glimpse at break of Christmas Day,
You'll see a pod of killer whales attached to Santa's sleigh!
© Stephen Whiteside 12.12.2014
A Whale of a Christmas Tale
It's freezing in the far North Pole, as everybody knows.
The temperature is icy, and a cold wind howls and blows.
Santa sends his reindeer south to keep them in their prime.
He doesn't mind, as long as they return at Christmas time.
Of course, there is no land up there. The journey's fairly grim.
Across the many leads of water sometimes they must swim.
One year a pod of killer whales were aching for a feast.
If they swallowed deer or dolphin meat, it mattered not the least.
Rudolph's head was bitten off, and tossed into the air,
Then what was left was passed around so all could have their share.
Prancer's chest was buffeted, but he was kept alive
To teach the babies how to kill, and help the pod to thrive.
At last the reindeer all were dead. The killer whales were full.
The feasting had been hearty for each calf and cow and bull.
The killer whales yawned and stretched, and slowly moved away,
And that was very nearly all that anyone might say.
However, this was witnessed by a puffin overhead.
He raced to tell poor Santa that his herd of deer was dead.
Recalling all the details, he recounted, blow by blow,
Each death, till Santa silenced him: "I do not need to know!
"But thank you, little puffin, you've discharged your duty well.
My elves, they will reward you." Then he rang his little bell
In the hope that maybe one poor deer had lived to pull his sleigh,
But silence was his answer, and the clouds turned steely grey.
Santa pursed his lips and paced, his arms behind his back.
He didn't see it on the ice - at first a little crack,
But wide it grew and wider. Santa Claus was lost in thought.
Then suddenly, in icy water Santa Claus was caught!
He tried to swim, but found his boots and clothing pulled him down.
Was Santa, King of Winter, bound to sink, and simply drown?
He felt his body dropping. All around was turning black.
His little elves were powerless to bring his body back.
The next he knew, he lay behind a whale's dorsal fin.
With their squeaking and their whistling sounds, they made a fearful din.
The killer whale then arched its back, and tossed him on the ice.
Santa briefly thought he had arrived in Paradise,
But he soon came to his senses. No, he wasn't dead at all.
Somehow he'd been rescued from the ocean's icy thrall.
He rose to thank his saviours, who were milling back and forth.
"Life is never boring when you live at farthest North!
"But tell me, first you eat my deer, and now you rescue me.
Why? There is no reason, or no logic I can see.
What am I to make of you? You're bad, but also good.
I guess I'm pretty lucky you were in my neighbourhood.
"Well, come on then, there's work to do. I'm sure that you can fly
As well as any reindeer can, so, take me to the sky.
Lift my sleigh with all its gifts, and take me round the Earth,
So another Christmas night with Santa's visit may take birth.”
There was little time for practice. There was no time to rehearse.
They did not improve on reindeer. Then again, they were no worse.
So if, perchance, you catch a glimpse at break of Christmas Day,
You'll see a pod of killer whales attached to Santa's sleigh!
© Stephen Whiteside 12.12.2014
