When the Ogre Met Santa (warning: not for younger readers)

The ogre arrived at the grotto,

Dripping with slobber and snot.

‘Give me my presents!’ it bellowed.

‘All of the gifts that you’ve got!’

It gnashed and thrashed, it bished and bashed,

Then lowered its voice and said darkly,

‘I’ll eat you for tea (just wait and you’ll see)

Unless all my presents are sparkly’.


The ogre looked sternly at Santa,

Its eyes were both narrow and mean.

Its teeth were thorns, its ears were horns,

Its skin was all scaly and green.

It let out a growl and a horrible howl,

Its bum made a staggering stink.

‘Santa’, it said. ‘I’ll see that you’re dead,

Unless all my presents are pink’.


The ogre went out of the grotto,

It held a white beard in its claws.

Its tongue gave a lick and a quick flicker flick,

A hat dangled down from its jaws.

‘I did try to warn him’, it sniffled.

‘And maybe he’d think that I’m bitter.

But it’s really not right on a Christmassy night

If none of my presents have glitter’.











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