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In this poem we catch a rare glimpse of Santa when our friendly father finds himself in a spot of festive bother. This Season we have been busy preparing a series of Festive Creative Makes, puppetry and poems for children to enjoy with their grown ups. Everyone at Planet Munch loves to listen to a Christmas Story here our team of puppeteers share Christmas stories from their own childhood.

Why not learn it off by heart and join in with the words.

A toast to Santa Clause!

‘Twas on one Christmas morning We didn’t get much warning We heard an enormous crash down stairs And crept out of bed clutching teddy bears

Down the creaking stairs we trod A tentative and nervous plod As we ventured down the stair We couldn’t see a thing down there

It could have been a nasty joke We couldn’t see the room for smoke ‘Oh my gosh, the rooms on fire!’ I heard myself screaming, higher and higher

We held each other tight and squealed Hoping the truth would soon be revealed Then through the smoke, a flash of red Perhaps we should have stayed in bed!

Oh no what was it, who could it be The smoke was still too thick to see. This flash of red it kept on moving Our situation was not improving.

Then, through the smoke, a cough and wheeze St Nick appeared crawling on his hands and knees ‘SANTA’ we cried, ‘Is it really you?’ ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘what am I to do?

I’m feeling rather sore and rotten I fear I may have burnt my bottom.’ As he spoke his eyes filled with tears ‘You weren’t supposed to see me, my dears,

I thought the fire had been put out I didn’t mean to scream and shout.’

‘Oh Santa, we are so glad you’ve come We’re sorry to hear about your bum’ As Rudolf’s milk poured over his bottom Santa sighed with relief and the pain was forgotten

‘OK, nice to meet you all but I must be off Rudolf and the others are waiting aloft I fear I’ve made a bit of a mess When it comes to cleaning I rarely impress

Now remember next year before to bed Put out the fire, wear more layers instead. You are good children, I’ve been watching you see You will find your presents under the tree.’

And without further a word, a nod nor a sigh Father Christmas vanished away into the sky Now each year and for every Christmas after We heed the words of our friendly father

And make sure the fire is quite put out To save St Nick from screaming out And at every Christmas dinner time We raise our glass and recite this rhyme

‘Now for a toast to Santa Clause The man with the big hole in his drawers!”