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A Christmas Poem for Poynton

By Steve Orchard
Local Resident
13th December 2011


CHRISTMAS IN POYNTON

It was the night before Christmas
Tomorrow would be the big day
The Christmas star was shining
Over the Middlewood Way

At the Boar’s Head the crowd had departed
They’d all had their last Christmas drink
Some went home to wrap all their presents
And some to throw up in the sink

Everywhere children are sleeping
All cosy in innocent bliss
Next door their parents are snoring
Too much whisky always does this

The carrot is ready for Rudolph
There’s mince pies and sherry as well
The tree is a pine bought from Brookside
What a pity it’s just sprouts we can smell

The children must not wake too early
At least let them slumber till dawn
Is that sound reindeer scratching our rooftop?
No, just that badger that’s digging our lawn

But where is the jolly fat fellow?
It’s time he was coming our way
I hope he’s not stuck down a chimney
Or fallen asleep in his sleigh

‘Cos he started his day bright and early
Tying tinsel on the reindeer’s tails
He’s even got a new Sat Nav
He bought in the pre-Christmas sales

He began Christmas Eve in New Zealand
Then flew high over Tibet
We know where he is every second
‘Cos we follow him on t’internet

He had no trouble getting round London
Or over Cheshire’s fields and farms
But he came to a shuddering standstill
Just short of the Vernon Arms

“Why the delay?” he enquired
“Why are we all stuck in this queue?”
Some drivers said “We’re from Poynton
And Santa – if you only knew!”

They’re digging the roads up in Poynton
Diversions and trucks everywhere
The idea’s some sort of Utopia
For drivers and pedestrians to share

Park Lane is blocked at the bottom
A mini roundabout appeared over night
But drivers keep forgetting
To give way to cars from the right

At Waitrose the junction’s a problem
No one knows when to go or to stop
So we just sit in Costa coffee
And watch cars ram the Health Food shop

For a moment the traffic got moving
And everyone started to cheer
But one old Baker Bus driver
Said “I’ve been here since this time last year”

At midnight the snow started falling
So snowballs and snowmen were made
Songs were sung by Cliff Richard
And Noddy Holder from Slade

But Rudolph was getting impatient
And his feet and his nose, how they glowed
Then some drunk staggered up to Santa
And suggested “Try Clifford Road”

However this route wasn’t the answer
As you’ll know if you’ve been round that way
‘Cos half a mile of speed bumps
Play havoc with the base of a sleigh

But Santa he drove like a belter
At the end made a turn to the right
He stared through the snow in the distance
All he saw was a flippin’ red light

By now he was starting to worry
As St George’s began to strike three
He really would have to get moving
And he desperately needed a wee

But Rudolph was a lawful reindeer
And insisted on waiting for green
So Santa just sat there fretting
And sadly considered the scene

The first to appear were three Wise Men
Who said “We’ve been following that star
But Lyme Park was right out of camels
So we had to come in this car”

They were taken aback by the roadworks
One stood there, stroking his beard
He said “We’re supposed to be clever
But Fountain Place looks really weird”

There’s no crossing, no kerb and no markings”
But saying these things – oh bad luck!
As he stood in this oasis of shared space
He got mowed down by a truck

Then came some lowly shepherds
And they were full of fear –
Frightened that this building site
Would still be here next year

Carefully through the barriers
They slowly herded their sheep
Into the Co-op car park
‘Cos they needed a drink and some sleep

Now emerged the Co-op boss
Who said “I’ll sell you some wine,
But don’t stay longer than an hour and a half
Or you’ll be sure to get a fine”

And then a host of angels
Their halos gave such an aura
Saying “We’re looking for a manger
But all we’ve found is the Purple Pakora”

Then at the end of this Christmas procession
And for Santa it was such a thrill
Joseph leading Mary on a donkey
Heading for Stepping Hill

So, kids, if your stockings are empty
With no lovely Christmas delights
Don’t blame poor old Father Christmas
He’s still stuck at the Poynton lights!


 

 

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A Christmas Poem for Poynton
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