merry christmas time
when hearts can reopen gifts
of old memories
Mummers Allowed In
By: Ash
when I was little, I saw a man in a dress
mask on his face, brassiere on his chest
scary to a youngster at Christmas time
only to a Newfoundlander best kind
twas a mummer you see
staggering door to door for a beer or a snart of whiskey
some of them danced, most of them sang
with a lot of them bumming for spirits and tang
I was frightened at first, hiding behind Nan’s holiday skirt
she told me not to be foolish, for they wouldn’t hurt
all they really want is to join in some cheer
cause they can only do so during this time of year
when I got older, I too put on a dress
covered my face, and did a jig to impress
the tradition of mummering is DNA to my folk
we share this island and we share this joke
if you see someone with mitts on their feet
an ugly stick in hand, walking the snow-fallen street
with humps on their back
like that Simani song, an old Newfie track
played on each occasion, there’s a callback to a time now old
when being out all night could catch you the devil’s own cold
but that was OK if you had a pint of rum
it got you home by the heat in your tum
if you come to Newfoundland at Christmas
be sure it’s not a mummer’s night…you do miss
smell of midnight mass
as elves move gifts from hiding
tease my Christmas heart
feeling deep inside
looking at a flurry sky
angels where I lie
Is it a wish? Is it a dream? Is it a prayer? Is it a gift? To a father at Christmas, she’s all four. – Dad
Once upon a time,
there was an angry little elf.
Who thought of absolutely no one,
but of only himself.
He’s always so mad,
which made the other elves very sad,
with his complaints that work, work, work,
was all they ever had.
Ah, Christmas spirits. Not those three ghosts that visit if you forget the true meaning of Christmas. No, these spirits are the alcoholic drinks we share with friends, family, and strangers during the celebrations of the holiday season. This is time of year that brings annual opportunities to take part in a festive spirit or two, or three, or maybe four, or…
By the way, I use the word spirits loosely to encompass all things drinky-drinky during December Yuletide. That also includes non-alcoholic spirits. Because you don’t need alcohol to enjoy the “spirit” of the moment. Good times being had at restaurants, pubs, bars, house parties, office parties, all over the place. Immersed in awesome atmospheres wrapped full of special cheer and merry wishes. Who’s round is it?
When I change into the seasonal writer, it’s all about Christmas. It’s a holiday from the rest of my words. – Ash
Ah, December the 1st. There are so many words to describe the beginning of our twelfth month on the calendar, and they all mean Christmas. The very second it changes from November to December is the same very second your veins fill with magic. Magic that lasts a whole twenty-five days and then some. Then…on the twenty-fifth day, we get more. Magic that can reach far and wide, high and low, and around every corner. Creating the perfect buildup to the arrival of Santa. The keeper of Christmas and all of its magic.
So far, I have purchased a gift, listened to festive music, peeked into storefronts, adored some lights, spotted reindeer, drank hot chocolate, walked in the snow, made a wish, donated to charity, ate a cookie, wanted to go sliding, had a sippy-sippy, watched a Christmas movie, and thought many many times of my own memories of being a kid during this wonderful time of year. And it’s only December the 1st. Go get some of that magic, my friends. You deserve it, and while you are at it, pass some of it on. Because, no matter where you are now, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Happy Holidays!!!!
Until…
Ah, the late gift arrival. There’s nothing like a parcel drop-off race to the finish line to renew your faith in the miracles of Christmas. But if the holiday buzzer happens to sound and you’re left empty-handed while sipping on your seventh spiked eggnog weeping as you gaze out the living room window, it is then you concede that the Grinch must be more real than Santa.
Earth To Ash 