’twas the night before Gothmas (or; A visit from Saint Eldritch – a poem for Hallowe’en)

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’twas the night before Gothmas (or; A visit from Saint Eldritch – a poem for Hallowe’en) by Davywavy and The Blogging Goth.

‘Twas the night before Gothmas, when all through the flat
Not a creature was stirring, not even a bat
Ripped stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Saint Eldritch soon would be there;

The goths were all nestled all snug in their crypts,
With visions in mind of being tied up and whipped,
When out from the garden there came such a commotion
As of someone on speed singing Hey, this corrosion

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
When, out the sky and scattering the junkies,
Came a miniature hearse, drawn by eight tiny flunkies,

With a little old driver, so glum and so angry,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Andy.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

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“Now, Murphy! now, Fatbob! now, Siouxsie and Addams!
On, Coleman! on Danzig! on, Reznor and Mansons!
I drew in my hand, looked away from the hearse,
As down the chimney St. Eldritch came with a curse.

He was dressed all in leathers, from his head to his foot,
With his shades all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of unreleased albums in hand,
He offered to play them for a mere hundred grand

A wink of his eye and a nod of ‘allright?’,
Soon gave me to know he wouldn’t be singing tonight;
With not one more word he went straight to his task,
Of filling the stockings with all goths could ask;

With black velvet chokers and scent of patchouli
A notebook for poems and a t-shirt quite ghoul-y
Black wide -brimmed hats and a plectrum to pluck,
Cider and black and nice boots for…good luck.

First class tickets to Whitby and a spot at the bar,
Skinny black jeans and Wayne Husseys head in a jar!
Then laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his hearse, to his team gave some snakebite
And off they all flew away to a great height
But I heard him exclaim, ere they flew out of sight,

by Davywavy and The Blogging Goth