“Sometimes, one simply needs to forget about the hassle around, take a breather and concentrate on the very essence of what this special season really means, if anything.” Gun Roswell
In a comfortable winter’s sled
A holiday heart, glowing in red
Cheer and joy, for a while it will spread
No one knows, what here it lead
Or where it will next head
So each night, before you go to bed
Whisper a wish to keep it fed
“It’s made out of snow, but has a nose and a bow, or a scarf, guess depending on the person having made the snowman up. Freezing cold outside, alas, never too cold for the bold snowman, standing there, in the yard.” Gun Roswell
Frosty the Snowman
Delivering the ultimate plan
For the holiday fan
From here to Milan
Doing the holiday can-can
Just because, he can
“Those mythical figures adorning our homes and perhaps lives, saviours and even spies? Alas, looking rather nice, at least, when staying on them shelves or wherever else they just might dwell.” Gun Roswell
Angels and elves,
Where do they dwell?
Filling the shelves perhaps
Putting on spells on us
Ringing the holiday bells maybe
Letting us know not to be lated
Of the seasonal celebrations
And so,
All is now well again
“Oh Xmas time, oh Xmas time… yeah, so, tis the season after all, so let’s try to have some kind of a ball? Even if some of us might not just subscribe to the general idea of the celebratory time. But yeah, totes put up a tree and some lights, as they do look, kinda nice!” Gun Roswell
The jolly Saint Nick
For some, Father Christmas
To others, Santa Claus
Call him what you will
You will always get your fill
Of happy thoughts and enjoyment
And possibly a nice payment
On Christmas Eve or Day wherever in the world you play
If you only believe
“It was the day before the real xmas, or at least, in some countries it is so, at least” Gun Roswell
Up here, in the North, we celebrate this seasonal holiday, this Xmas time without much of a ball
Even if the trees might have some, but we, us northern dwellers, prefer not to have too much fun
As peace and quiet, are the key words, so not to cause any kinds of riots
When Santa Claus or Father Xmas or Kris Kringle or whichever way you prefer this character of sorts to call
As this one single dude, who will bring us, well not food, but at least some not really needed stuff
And hey, that all should be quite enough, for this time of the year
When we all are mostly gathered together, in a sort of a celebration, without too much fear?
“All kinds of witches are about, usually all year long, but especially during Easter times!” Gun Roswell
She is so old, her teeth are gold
She is almost blind and bold
But never the lesser one
Usually, having all the fun
When she smiles
There is no vile
The children she likes
Never ever strikes
Only candy will she eat
When she is riding on that broomy seat
Her charm is the grey cat
Which has become quite fat
Cheers and best wishes to all
Before the cauldron her again calls
And until next Easter
She will be off her keister
“A very short time for a celebration and holidays, but hey, I’ll take it!” Gun Roswell
Holiday Seasons Greetings
When the two days of pleasure, puts on a lot of pressure
Because hey, it’s just a few days, and packing in all to slay
The checklist done earlier this year, just in utter fear
Of loosing out on some of the important things to be done
During over three hundred days, packed with all and maybe fun
But then, the fatigue hits and all you can do it just sit
And watch as the candles softly flicker, forgetting all the bigger
Worries and what nots and simply, sipping some eggnog
Because that, is what this season, is really all about!
“The holidays have ended and the weather changed too, what are the odds!” Gun Roswell
The end of the holiday season
The ever consuming darkness on the outside
Needs to be shedding, with some much needed light
All the small decorative candles flickering bright
On the window shill, I once painted white
As I watch the weather in constant turmoil
I venture back to the days with seasonal joy
The ground always covered with so much snow
When going outside was fun with only a toboggan in tow
Alas those days may have passed
And the changing seasons are of the past
But somehow the silent smog outside the window
It is still comforting enough, even with a little wind blow
“All kinds of witches are about, usually all year long, but especially on Easter!” Gun Roswell
The Three Witches of Easter Time
The three witches from some-wick
Never mind which
They ain’t winning no beauty contests
To that may can attest
But ugly can be an asset
Especially for the wickedness
Scaring folks and cattle
Just by showing up tattle
After all, this is a holy ball
For all the witch kind
And if you any of them find
Then try to stir to the right
As the witches always drive
On the left hand side
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” Charles Dickens
A Christmas Tale of sorts or Can I have some Figgy Puddin’, please?
The year was 1845. I was about ten years of age and working as a stable girl. Our family lived and worked in Lord Hamilton’s manor house. It was Christmas time and as a gift for the servants, the Lord arranged a feast for the staff and their families.
Mommy had the children dressed in their Sunday best. My two brothers were complaining about the stiffness of the shirts. Starch was itchy and could cause rash, especially if one scratched the itch.
I had my favourite dress on and my younger sister was a bit jealous of the red and green colouring. She was wearing a plain blue coloured hand me down.
After all the fuzz and hassle with the wardrobe, the whole family was finally set to go to the main house and start with the Christmas dinner. Us servants would be dining in the large kitchen. Several long tables were brought in with extra seats as well. This wasn’t a large household. With around fifteen servants and their families, well not all had children and spouses, all in all around sixty people in total crammed around the tables. The two cooks had had their hands full with the preparations and naturally every one that could had chipped in.
But now it was time for celebration. Everyone was finally sitting down and getting quiet. After grace the noise level rose again. Food containers were passed around and everyone was filling their respective plates. After all, it wasn’t often we got to eat in this manner and variety.
After a while, everyone had cleared their plates and it was time for dessert. My favourite was the Figgy Pudding. If possible I opted for seconds. As I got my plate of the delicious substance before me, I licked my lips and dug into it with gusto. It did not take too long for the food to disappear from my plate.
My mom looked at me with a smirk. I looked back at her and passing my bowl I asked: “Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left?”
I was smiling widely, feeling exhilarated, when the bowl was passed back to me with an other helping.
When the final bits were eaten, it was time for the traditional sing along. The farmhand brought out his accordion and after the first few tunes, we all joined in. The evening was spent singing, chatting and finally picking up the tables. We all went back to our dwellings, thanking the Lord for the special meal.
Merry Pudding and God bless us everyone!
Rantings Of A Third Kind 