St. Rich and his Christmas Cheer

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the site

Not a thing was stirring, not even a health and safety festoon light;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Wilson, soon would be there;

The site lads were nestled all snug by their tools,

While visions of silly blunders danced in the heads of fools 


And Guy in his tank top, and I in my high vis,

Had just settled our brains for a short snagging list—‌

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

We sprang from the site audit pro to see what was the matter.

Away to the window Guy flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,

Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below;

When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old screwdriver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Rich

More rapid than drills his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name:

"Now! Paul, now! Chris, now! Andy and Stuart,

"On! Aidey, on! Cookie, on! Stringer and Jacko 

"To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

"Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As sawdust that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the pub-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of tools, timber and St. Richard too:

And then in a twinkling, We heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As We drew on the plan and were turning around,

Down the chimney St. Richard came with a bound:

He was dress'd all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot;

A bundle of bric a brac was flung on his back,

And he look'd like a peddler just opening his pack:

His eye, how they twinkled! His dimples: how merry,

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the gleam of his hat was as white as Lorraine’s rag doll Cat,

The stump of a scale rule he held tight in his teeth,

And the miscalculations encircled his head like a sparkling Christmas wreath.

He had a broad face, and always  acted quite silly,

The whole room shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly:

He was daft and crazy, a right jolly old elf,

And We all laugh'd when We saw him in spite of his bright orange tanned self;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave us all the nod we all dread,

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And fill'd all the stockings; then turn'd with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle:

But We heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight.... the site just needed some more bric a brac, and maybe an occasional table light..;


Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good break, St.Wilson and his team, wish you all a Christmas dream