Sunday, December 07, 2014

A Christmas poem for my youngest brother persuant to a conversation about what everyone will be having on Christmas. The rest of us will be having turkey and stuffing and all things good and wonderful.

Ariff will be having his loner donor kebab.
Oh, how we laugh.

THE KEBAB BEFORE CHRISTMAS

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Ariff was hungry for a donor kebab.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
But Ariff was sad there were no kebabs there.

His friends were nestled all snug in their bed,
While visions of kebabs danced in his head.
He looked to the left to his bro in a cap,
They both left the house hunting around for kebabs.

When out to the lawn they left in such a clatter,
An open sign on the shop down the street was a-splatter.
Away to the shopfront they flew like a flash,
Barged in through the door eyes wild, hand with cash.


The dude at the counter, kebab pack in tow
Gave a donor kebab to the hungry brown fellow.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But also a miniature packet of chips and a beer!

With a curt smile, so lively and quick,
They thought in a moment it could be a trick.
He knew that kebabs and chips weren't a game,
And he counted the bill, and then called them by name!

"Hey Ariff! Hi, friend! Kebab, chips and a beer!
Only five pounds fifty since you're regulars!
No extra charge! And you too, Paul!
Now eat away! Eat away! Eat away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Ariff bit into the kebab and lo, he did cry.


"DIS DONOR KEBAB IS THE BEST SHIT EVER.
WHO NEEDS A GIANT TURKEY, AND STUFFING AND GRAVY, WHATEVER!"

They sprang off their seat, to kebab bro a wave,
The shop was open today, indeed a close shave.
As they heard him exclaim, ‘ere they walked out of sight,
"I'M CLOSED TOMORROW, LADS, HAPPY CHRISTMAS, GOOD NIGHT!"

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