Every Christmas Eve without fail,

Santa would visit me in the night.

Excitedly, I would imagine

Him and his reindeer in flight.

As I grew older, suspicions arose,

Eventually, I began to learn

Santa was in fact my mum,

Mother Christmas, the term!

 

This continued into early teens,

Even when she knew I knew.

Then she brought me in a guitar

What else was I to do?

I pretended to be fast asleep

As she crept quietly into my room,

Gingerly propping it against a chair,

Struggling to see in the gloom.

 

An acoustic guitar makes quite a noise

When it falls to the floor,

TWANG! BANG! CLANG! TWANG!

I couldn’t have slept for sure!

Yet still I lay as still as I could,

Trying so hard not to laugh.

Never was Santa so noisy!

Next year I got a silk scarf…