Christmas drew e’er closer so Santa Curse took flight,
a sleigh drawn by zombie reindeer, eyes flaming bright.
My daughters were huddled, in warm beds and ready,
pitchforks and bowies sharpened and steady.
While Daphne in her long tee had just settled down,
I was hunkered outside lying flat on snowed ground.
Then what to my leery eyes should appear,
but a flaming mistletoe sleigh drawn by eight vicious deer.
So many times, Santa Curse and I had fought through the night,
I was tired of it but it just seemed my plight.
First stop made he to the Hollow’s small cottage,
he had a candy cane lance that sparked with high wattage.
But soon as I saw that dread sleigh again fly its course,
I bound to good Aval and mounted my warhorse.
An arrow I drew from the quiver at my back,
and Santa Curse dove at us to begin his attack.
I kicked Aval’s flanks and started our run,
firing arrows from saddle as if into the sun.
Each shaft was tipped like archers of old,
the point was a bodkin but of tinsel and gold.
Like angels they flew, each green shaft fletched red,
once again I’d strive to make Santa Curse dead.
The first shots, they missed, gone high in the night,
the fourth and the fifth, though, cut the zombie deer mid-flight.
His vile sleigh carrying poison candy and undead elfs,
came crashing down but could not kill Santa Curse himself.
We locked in mortal combat ‘neath a silver Yuletide moon,
one or the other this night must surely fall soon.
Santa thrashed at me with ooze-dripping claws,
said, “Consume and buy junk, and join my ill cause.”
He hissed lies if I didn’t the economy would fail,
the land descend in poverty that would make us all quail.
He raged and he swore it was trickle-down theory,
but at last my Odin-blessed puukko took the fight out of he.
And so he was down and we burned Curse and sled,
just to make sure for that night the liar stayed dead.
So Santa Curse is gone another Yuletide season,
be warm and be well; live free from fell reason.