A Yammering Yoke of Yuletide Yarns: Rhyming Tales Poking Fun at Christmas Tradition

By Merv Cussen

This book talks about a handful of things—with schemes to trap and catch Santa Claus, looking at Christmas dinner from the point of view of the humble vegetable, lessons on Christmas history, parables about the folly of the Yuletide season, playing with the English language and showing how it breaks all its own rules, Australian political comment, introducing previously unknown Christmas characters, rants about capitalistic consumerism, and many other philosophical and hairbrained theories explained with humor and insight.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Nov 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984503145

Merv Cussen

Merv Cussen has been delighting friends and family with his annual Christmas poem for forty years. From beginnings as an optimistic university graduate to becoming a cynical old bastard nearing retirement, his comic wit and oddball view of the Yuletide season has given readers a good laugh.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Merv Cussen.

ISBN:                Softcover                978-1-9845-0315-2

                          eBook                     978-1-9845-0314-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/05/2018

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

786154

Contents

Foreword

1979

Santa’s Abduction

1980

A Sadist’s Christmas Carol

1981

A Yuletide Yearning

1982

The Last Noel

1983

Silent Plight

1984

A Paralytic Parable of Parallel Particulars

1985

Dreaming of a Blight on Christmas

1986

The Everlasting Noel

1987

The Christmas Wish List

1988

Santa’s Demise

1989

Fluorocarbon Folly

1990

An Australian Christmas Carol

1991

The Folly of Holly

1992

The Christmas We Had to Miss

1993

Aid the Santa Claus Cause

1994

Santa’s Empty Sack

1995

The Wish List

1996

Time for a Rhyme Grime Crime

1997

A Yuletide Wish

1998

A Yuletide Mandate

1999

The Bushranger’s Lament

2000

A Little Yuletide History

2001

Merry Christmas

2002

A True History of Christmas

2003

The Jubilee Year Bells Have Chimed

2004

The Plight of the Elves

2005

The Makeover Man

2006

Holy Homograph Batman!

2007

The True Global Warming Theory

2008

The Twelve (Economic) Days of Christmas

2009

An Environmental Christmas Wrap

2010

United States of America

2011

A Brief History Of Christmas

2012

The Very Last Christmas Card

2013

The Fiscally Responsible Christmas Card

2014

Alfubeckital Wurdpley

2015

Philosophical Notions for the Betterment of Society

2016

Geographical Dyslexia

2017

A Yuletide Christian Novella

2018

The Case of the Missing Messiah

Foreword

typewriter-3711590_1920.jpg

Just a few lines trying to explain how this all came about.

40 years is a long, long time and there are questions I ask myself now. Why did I start it? Why have I kept it going for 40 years? And as my Mother-in-Law always asked, why did I need to make the Christmas Grinch look like an angel?

I always needed an outlet for expressing myself and making comment on the world around me. I enjoyed writing many articles in the university magazine and once I left Uni I felt I had to continue this on somehow. I moved to Melbourne for my first job in the public service. I wanted to get into HR but unluckily I did too well in the entrance exam and ended up in a Supply management job. Writing dry public service procedures in my workplace did not fulfil any need, so I came up with the idea of a Christmas card. There was no thought of becoming a genius of literature, the object was simply to inject a little seasonal silliness to the end of the year. Little did I know back in 1979 that it would become an annual event.

I moved into a rental property with one of my best mates, Thommo. Luckily he was the responsible one and we set ourselves up pretty well. We still managed to play up, staying out too late and continuing to try and live the lifestyle we had at Uni.

I should have knuckled down to a life of boredom and responsibility, but inspiration from mid 70’s comedians such as The Pythons, John Belushi/Dan Akroyd and the Two Ronnies, all contributed to my outlook on life. I wanted to emulate this type of social comment observing what a ridiculous world we live in.

Not wanting the grass to grow under my feet or the creditors to catch up with me, I moved several times in the next few years, using my house mates as subjects for further stories. A small tradition had begun to be created. I started out trying to kidnap Santa Claus. Like a dog chasing a car, I’m not sure I would have known what to do if I caught him. I then branched out into other tales, becoming cynical about capitalistic ways and storytelling by parables. Politics entered the fray because, just like any cartoonist, politicians are an easy fallback when ideas start to dry up. They continued to be the target of further barbs, as well as those who hold a variety of business and sporting leadership roles. Funny thing is, although they are dated, change a few names, and it would all still be relevant now. Before Al Gore invented Climate Change there was an ozone layer that was under threat. There were taxes and money making schemes. I also started to play with the English language and pick up on its particular peculiarities. You can always tell when a society is becoming more prosperous, the perceptions of the correct way to behave develop ridiculous modes. There were anecdotes about perplexing questions such as why is it that Santa is not mentioned in the Bible? Which led onto religion and identifying little known characters in Yuletide history. Unluckily, the poem for 2004 has become a bit like a 1930 Australian penny – rare and unobtainable. I have used one of my son Jarryd’s poems as a substitute.

Like all of us, my world has changed and I’ve gotten older but have not necessarily matured. The poems need to be read in the context of the time they were written. What was innocent yesterday can be politically incorrect today. I’ve had responsibility forced upon me as a parent and conscientious business owner, but there was still that underlying rebellious university student simmering beneath the surface in my mild mannered and introverted self. I pity today’s students who have far too much pressure to simply behave themselves, meeting educational outcomes, gaining strong ATAR scores, being law abiding and socially acceptable citizens.

Of course, none of this would have been possible without the wind beneath my wings, my loving wife, Christine. As a teacher, the last thing she wanted to do at the end of a school year was address Christmas cards. But she did it with a tender, affectionate snarl on her face. Also, my friends and family who have occasionally encouraged me to continue the tradition

Lastly, the company motto. Every now and then the postie had to take the blame for the card being a little late!

The Cesspool Card Company - Where we take pride in our tardiness

1979

Santa’s Abduction

santa-1048248.jpg

The embers were burning in a bright orange hue,

"Twas the night before Christmas and Santa was due,

Thommo and I sat pondering the flame,

To destroy Santa’s myth was our evil game.

This night we had planned for all the year,

We approached the event without any fear.

Our prime aim we noted with mirth,

Was to disappoint children all over the earth.

Kidnapping Santa would not be easy,

My stomach turned, I felt rather queasy.

To settle my tummy, Thommo offered me whisky,

As he said, Abduction is risky!

Two bottles later we were no longer worried,

Our method was laborious, totally unhurried.

Sleep would have been easy, but we had to determine

If we wanted to wipe out this jolly red vermin.

Two bottles were plenty, we wanted no more,

The inevitable happened, Thommo started to snore.

I stirred up the fire to boil the pot.

It was a major part of our dastardly plot.

A jingle of bells shook me awake,

I nearly knocked over Santa’s rum cake.

Thommo was awoken when I shouted: He’s here!

He jumped so high he grabbed the chandelier.

It promptly gave way and fell to the floor.

Thommo let go and rolled out the door.

Quick as a flash he was back on his feet,

A gleam in his eye, ’twas Santa he’d meet.

We quickly moved to our hiding spots.

Santa, the fool, was laughing lots.

On Donner, on Blitzen. Santa shouted with glee.

Thommo laughed aloud. Venison for tea!

The fumes from our cauldron had Santa reeling,

When he reached the lounge room he had no feeling.

He ate all the rum cake, hoping to be cured,

Into our web he had slowly been lured.

He finally collapsed, then quickly we moved,

Our situation had greatly improved.

We tied him up with many pieces of rope.

His weak submission had been our hope.

We sent off a ransom note to the Myer corporation,

And lay back in glory and self-adoration,

Wishing they’d send us all of the money,

That we’d demanded in a note that was very funny.

Unluckily they didn’t, and our story gets bleak.

We’d expected them to be rather meek.

What they did was send in the army.

Old Mr Myer must have been balmy.

They started to attack and just like the Titanic.

We became very scared and started to panic.

They began with mortar and ended with napalm,

The tension was high, no-one could stay calm.

We had to surrender, we could do no more.

Christmas that year would be a bore.

Santa had