Saint Nick was at no risk of getting fat.
For the cows couldn’t wait,
Forget the presents, the milking couldn’t be late.
It was Daisy, not Blitzen, and Milly not Vixen,
And Crasher, not Dancer, because of all the fence fixin’.
It didn’t seem to matter if the cows were naughty or nice,
Well, maybe not quite true, there was that one who ended up on ice!
It seemed impressive, around the world in just one night,
Delivery presents while keeping just out of sight.
But Santa now knows that myth is a lie,
Through rain and sludge, heat and flies, it’s dairy farmers who never say die.
There’s no waiting mince pies or cookies, and brandy schnapps,
There’s just milk prices, and weird smells, and government crap!
Spare a thought Christmas Eve when your head hits the bed,
For the dairy farmer on Christmas toiling in the milking shed.
Lloyd Polkinghorne,
Barham
22°C