No Escape for Santa - Diane Scantlebury

Father Xmas was back in Barbados
On a sun lounger by the pool,
With his rum punch and dark glasses
He thought we’d all be fooled,

In a green hat, with beard shorn short
His disguise was oh so thin,
For his round, brown belly shook
When he dived in for a swim,

There was a hearty ho, ho, ho as he laughed
When his swim trunks wriggled down,
His jolly cheeks with embarrassment flushed red
It was an unmistakeable sound,

Away from the pressures and arthritis
Incognito he’d hoped to have slipped,
For a bit of winter sun
And his toes into the warm Caribbean to dip,

Alas he’d been spotted
By a smart Alec with a smart phone,
Who tagged him in on Twitter
His cover had been blown,

Santa’s now back in Lapland
In his thermal vest and long johns,
Any chance of a peaceful winter break
Like his tan, had long since gone,

Poor old Santa
He’d really tried his best,
But when you’re a world famous celebrity
There’s no escape or rest!

Diane Scantlebury