Winning Poem
All we get is carrots.
He gets the mince pies.
We pull the pointless sleigh.
He rules the skies.
I get bullied about my red nose.
He fills space with his HO HO HOs.
We catch hypothermia standing on the ice
He drinks the wine (against our advice)
But really Santa’s not that bad
In his world no-one’s sad.
The reason why they’re full of joys
Is he gives them hundreds of toys.
He’s full of frolics and fiddle-dee-dees
While we’re scratchy and grumpy and covered in fleas.
