About Origins Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A town in England, name of York,
is where they hatched the famous Stork.
It's also where the silly rumour
(preposterous, devoid of humour) ,
of Santa and his sleigh was born
And then, of course, the unicorn.

But I digress, back to the story,
just listen and you shan't be sorry.
One morning, it was late December,
when in the home of noble member
Sir Dangleballs of Hollyshire
was burning brightly a big fire.

Mylord was drinking Spanish wine,
his spouse was into Ballantine.
They fell asleep right near the fire
while on the roof, in black attire
a chimneysweep was working late
(the city paid him evening rate) ,
he worked his way into the flue
and spotted in the Bar the brew.

But what he saw besides the whisky
was that Mylord was turning frisky,
he was on top of his Scotch lover
while the observer (under cover)
was hanging upside down with brush
He needed patience now, no rush.

The heat from alder, birch and fir
while stimulating him and her,
was penetrating the technician
who was on this precarious mission.

While watching hot and endless kissing
and crackling logs that went on hissing
the fire burned his suit and shoes
inside the hottest of all flues.

Materials those days in York
were fire-proof plain skin of pork.
And pigskin roasted in a fire
turns red when temperatures go higher.

Of course, the chimneysweep survived,
when he emerged and then arrived
in moonlit streets against the snow,
the Vicar yelled 'I told you so! '

And, as the vicar's voice was thunder
(he did originate Down Under) ,
domestic animals on farms
did not appreciate its charms.
They jumped until they cleared their fence.
Once free and not well-known for sense
they were attracted to the red
thus followed him. It has been said
they later stole a covered sleigh
and placed inside two flakes of hay.

You get the drift now, don't you, reader,
the chimney sweep became their leader.
They did acquire during nights
when folks were sleeping without lights
so many items, far and wide,
the sleigh got fuller with each ride.

From Finnish Ice fields to Atlanta
they called him Santa Claus, or Santa.
Another myth you thought was true.
It lived like me, inside a shoe.