Polish Santa

Its an O family tradition to read Polish Santa every year. Its just noy Christmas without it. Aunt Ce-Ce does it best; as the perfect polak accent, but since we now get together with her sometime after the holidays, my sister gave it a shot. And I must say she gave it a valiant effort, very valiant effort. . .

Da Night Before Christmas in Poland

'Twas the night before Christmas 

In my Polish house
I creeped down da stairs 

As quiet as mouse.

Da rest of my family

Dey is asleep
With visions of mushrooms 

Through der heads creep.

Da work shoes are hung 

By da chimney with care
In hopes that St. Stash 

Hill fill them dere.

While over in corner 

Is silly to see
Kielbasa and cabbages 

Hanging from tree.

Den dere's dis bang

Da house starts to shudder,
Some nut lands on roof

And breaks da rain gutter.

He starts down da chimney

Swears cuz it's tight.
I hide behind beer cases

Way out of sight.

He lands in the fireplace –

Scorching his hair
On da busted up orange crate

Still burning dere.

He climbs out - I peak

And get a good look
He just like picture

In my Polish book.

He got vodka glazed eyes

And stomach like bubble,
A five-day beard –

There's soot on the subble.

Dis Polish Santa

I know without fear
Cuz he heads for da kitchen

And opens a beer.

He's lost all da buttons

Off his old mackinaw
And wears da biggest tennis shoes

I ever saw.

He finished a six pack

And gives a big smirk,
Reaches in potato sack

And then goes to work.

Now under da tree

He starts to set
Da most beautiful presents

A Polak can get.

There's a new mushroom basket

And shovel for brother,
A bright red babushka

And a pick axe for mother.

I must see him leave

So I rushes outside
And looks up da roof

While in bushes I hide.

And what do I see

Through da twigs
But this old wooden garbage cart

Pulled by eight pigs.

Polish Santa jumps in

And gives them all hell,
"Come on youse pigs

Don't just stand there and smell.

On Stella, On Walter,

On Stanley, and Joe,
And all youse others

Who names I don't know.

Fly over da junk yard

And stay out of sight
Must visit all peoples

Before I get tight."

Then I hear him say

As he flew over me -
"I'm da only Polak
That gives things for free."