(with apologies to Lord Byron)

Father Christmas came down on the roof at the fold
And the nose of each reindeer was purple and cold.
They all sneezed together: too much for the roof –
and down they all went: Santa, sleigh, horn and hoof.

The ceiling came down as the roof hit the ground
And the Christmas tree baubles went rolling around.
The stockings all leapt with a thunderous shout,
As the chimney, demolished, abruptly gave out.

The spray-snow and tinsel fled under the door,
While the crackers jumped up from the shuddering floor.
The presents burst open, their ribbons untied,
Showing gingerbread cohorts all crumbled inside.

The cat made a dash through the blizzardly storm,
A phantom of Yuletide in fur-flying form.
But the angel, though crumpled and singed in one wing,
Stood firm on her tree top: the brave little thing.