‘Twas The Night Before Christmas…

And all through the streets,
Not a sound could be heard,
But the typing of keys.
A girl in her twenties,
Sat late in the night,
Tap-tapping away,
With all her might.
She’d had a long day,
Having gone to the yard,
To move around ponies,
And play in the mud.
She got up quite early,
And drove in the rain,
To muck out some stables,
And come home again.
Her clothes got real filthy,
Her hands went so numb,
The mud went down her wellies,
And splashed up her bum.
The cobs by the names,
Of Lucky and Jack,
Were the steeds she did lead,
Down the wet boggy track.
‘Twas all in good fortune,
That plans had been placed,
To use horse’s bridles,
To keep things slow paced.
For the ponies were keen,
To get to their food,
And less keen by far,
To be caught and then moved.
The girl and her friends
Eventually managed
To capture the horses
With nothing damaged.
The walk down the hill
Was hard to navigate,
And to keep Jack away,
The girl used her whole weight.
By shifting and shoving,
She stayed on her feet,
As luck would have it,
For the journey complete.
Her task was not over,
On reaching the field,
Bridles were removed,
Though Lucky would not yield.
He held onto the bit,
By the skin of his teeth,
And the girl had to yank it
Out from underneath.
For the pony did threaten
To buck and to rear,
On seeing his friends,
Gallop off with no fear.
Having finished this task,
With mighty aplomb,
The trio returned,
To the place they came from.
One headed home
While the other two stayed
To sort out the rest
Much to their dismay.
When the beds were all done,
And ammonia free,
The work was complete
And the staff they did flee.
The girl drove back home
In the nick of time,
To head to the doctors
Although she was fine.
She met a nice nurse,
Who had drawn the short straw
Of working quite late;
’til way past four.
So tonight at least
This girl is relieved,
To get into bed,
And wave off Christmas Eve.
And now it’s quite late,
So with no more ado,
I wish a very Merry Christmas
To you, and you, and you.


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