I asked for contributions and here is a humorous one from Peter Dicken, a regular contributor to our Newsletter. It is a monologue in the style of Stanley Holloway/Marriot Edgar.

The Tale of the Christmas Tree Fairy

By Tim brooks and Mick Fall, 1972.

I’ll tell you an old Christmas story,
as we sit round the log fire at night.
Why each Christmas tree has its fairy on top
and why Santa’s beard is so white.

It happened one winter in England,
on a dark Christmas Eve long ago
There was Santa out doing his rounds
and playing on t’ sledge in t’ snow.

He were taking all t’ presents t’ t’ houses
and then, when that job were done,
he went round once again with his fairies
putting Christmas Trees in every one.

Now just when he thought he might finish
an’ ‘t’ last house were comin' in sight.
He went to fetch more trees off t’ toboggan,
And he found he were just, four trees light.

This discovery quite upset Santa,
So he gave to his reindeer a shout (whoa up!)
And he sent for his Christmas Tree fairy
to chastise her for leaving them out.

"Eeee by gum, tha’s a daft little fairy.
Tha’s daft as a fairy could be.
When you loaded the sledge up this evening
Tha must‘ve missed off some o’ trees".

“Oh Sod it!” replied t’ little fairy.
Which was really quite un-fairy like,
“I’ll ‘ave fer t’ go back t’ factory.”
And with that she got on her bike.

“Hold on a minute,” cried Santa
“There’s a way that won’t let yer forget
Fetch one tree back fer each finger
On ‘t right ‘and – you’ll get it right yet”

Then off like a shot went our fairy.
Much faster than t’ light from ‘t sun
‘Cause Einstein hadn’t been invented
and she wasn’t to know it weren’t done.

Now if you could ‘ave watched ‘t little fairy
There was trouble to come, you could tell.
For when she were counting her fingers,
She added her thumb in as well.

Now Santa, he waited for hours
‘Till his patience were running quite dry
When at last he saw t’ fairy peddling
For all she was worth through t’ sky

But then, as the fairy got nearer,
Santa’s anger it grew more and more.
He could tell by the load she was bearing,
that she’d fetched him five trees, not four.

Then Santa got redder and redder,
started roaring with all of his might.
Till the glow from his nose outshone Rudolph’s
and his beard, it began to turn white.

“Why, tha’s stupid”, he yelled at the fairy,
“Tha’s four times as thick as I’d thought.
Now go and put t’ trees in t’ houses
And when tha’s finished - report.”

So straightway off went the fairy,
and as soon as she’d finished, t’ last place
She brought fifth tree back to Santa
And waved it in front of his face.

“Whatever shall I do with this one?”
Our innocent fairy enquired,
So Santa, he upped and he told her
‘Cause by now he were feeling quite tired.

The fairy, she looked up at Santa
And her face it went a mite red
But then, being the good little fairy she was
She upped and she did as he said.

So now, at the end of my story
You’ll see why to this very night,
each Christmas Tree has a fairy on top
And old Santa’s beard is quite white.

The moral, should ever you want one
is simple – when doing your sums
If you really must count on your fingers,
Don’t forget to remember your thumbs.

Thanks, Peter. British readers will probably understand the dialectic delivery - I fear others may struggle!

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