Rudolph would still be his pilot,
Now sporting a leg of wood.
And, Comet would wear an eye-patch,
As every one-eyed swashbuckler should.

From his sleigh, Old Nick would fly the 'Roger'.
Jolly as ever before.
And, his "Yo, ho, ho!" wound be answered
With each roof-top-cannon's roar.

Children would send him letters.
"Please, Santa, spare our house."
And, the elves would surely laugh at these,
While they swilled rum 'till quite soused.

Carolers would sing a warning,
As we barred chimney, window, and door.
Damned if Fat Red wouldn't run you through.
'Twould be a season of blood thirty gore.

Baby Jesus would come and save us!
Hell yeah, that boy's okay!
He'd snatch up that old fart
And make him change his evil way.

But, Santa's not a pirate,
And Christmas is still full of cheer.
My concern now turns to Easter.
You know, that bunny was committed last year.

Daniel Irwin is a writer/artist with a shoebox full of rejection slips, which deters him from nothing. His work is published worldwide.