illustration: Rikki Marr
It were the night before Christmas, and all around Notts,
The locals were necking their pints in the pubs.
The stockings were tight on the landlady’s legs
In the hope her fella’d rip ‘em off with his tegs.
The kiddos were peekin’ beneath the tree,
Granny was dreamin’ of turkey cobs for tea.
Mam was naggin’ at dad for not wrappin’.
Forgot the mint sauce – proper flappin’.
When out on the street, there came a right fuss,
Lads kicked off for chonging on the night bus.
Away to the offy, they ran like a flash,
For Rizla and baccy to add to their stash.
Wappy as owt, they stole snowman’s nose,
Left his cheeks melting, his carrot exposed.
Up rolled a Ford Transit, engine sparked out,
Pulled by deer off Wollo Park’s grounds.
At the wheel sat a fishnet-clad bloke,
It was little old Cockle Man, with basket in tow.
Their peepers popped out, their tabs near bust
As he yelled at his troop to “Stop mekkin a fuss!”
“Now Garreh! Now, Barreh! Now, Gordon! Now, Bob!
On, Doris! On, Gladys! Get them shrimp out yer gob.”
And off he flew, his white hat like a crown,
To deliver his gifts, all over Hoodtown...
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