The Christmas Dragon

A twist on an old favourite.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, a long time ago,

Everywhere in the country was covered in snow.

As the snow fell around, not a sound could be heard,

Not a squeak of a mouse or a chirp of a bird.


The stockings were hung by the chimney with care

In the hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there,

The fires were all out, for if you want treats,

It’s best to make sure Santa won’t singe his feet.


Our household had long since retired to their beds,

And pulled all their blankets up over their heads,

But I lay awake, for I so wished to see

A vision of Santa, with presents for me.


The cold nighttime passed, and I must have dozed off.

I might have heard something, a sneeze or a cough,

And a jingling too, from way up on the roof,

And a tapping that might be a small reindeer’s hoof.


But it wasn’t a noise that woke me with a shock,

But a feeling of heat coming up from my socks.

I sat up and saw, curled up right by my toes,

A tiny green dragon, with smoke in his nose.


He startled awake, and he gave a slight grin,

As he blew out a smoke ring and lifted his chin.

Do dragons bring presents? I thought to myself.

I thought it was Santa – or maybe an elf?


He took a small stretch, and he jumped off the bed,

And seemed to say with an incline of his head

That the stockings were filled: Santa’s work was all done.

But now Santa’s was ended, his own had begun.


Then quietly into the kitchen he stole

And turned a plum pudding from out of a bowl

He gave a slight snort and a jolly laugh too,

And he covered the pudding in flames of bright blue.


Then he crept to the fireplace, took careful aim,

And lit up the logs with a bright yellow flame.

Then he unfurled his wings, waved a cheery adieu,

And with a great WHOOSH! Up the chimney he flew.


And now I knew why, on a cold Christmas morn,

Our houses (and puddings) are toasty and warm.

So remember to give Christmas dragons a greeting,

Even if, nowadays, you might have central heating.




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