'Twas the Yuletide Night
'Twas the Yuletide night, with a moon so bright,
and all round the house 'twas quiet and light.
When suddenly loud a shout rent the air
and Bridget came running pulling her hair!
She'd gone to the fire and noticed it's plight
the few bits of wood had gave her a fright.
"Oh what shall I do and what shall I say
when everyone's here for the feast today?
My fire can't go out, the hearth can't be cold
on Yule day of all days, wood won't be sold.
My woodpile is wet, all else is snowy
where will I find logs to warm this wee bothy?"
"The Holly has been gathered, the Ivy too
I'd got drum and bass, even a kazoo
but no fire at home, no fire at hearth!"
Brid wailed, bemoaned her heat dearth.
The women at pace, ran down the stairs
pulling on warm gowns, caught up on affairs.
The men they were slower, grumpier too
and added their voices to the hullabaloo.
One voice was deeper, Tor was its keeper -
he'd fallen for Bridget's beautiful bleepers -
but she only saw his effing great beard
not the passion with which his heart seared.
"I'll find you a log not water bogged
if under the mistletoe I will be snogged -
if I can find fire; a smooch I desire!"
"If you can find fire a gift I shall give,
equal in value, each year whilst I live!"
Tor took up his hammer of steel
donned wool jacket; against cold a shield,
fastened green belt around his stout belly.
Scoffing quickly some black elves in jelly,
Driving-Tor tried to quietly grab chariot -
but thundering wheels create a racket!
And then he went to find his Goats
alas, alack! The goats were sick.
To Donner and Blitzen, he gave them oats,
good Reindeer help - in harness - click.
Then up, away did chariot fly
to hurtle loudly through the sky
Now Tor, despite what people say,
is wise enough, in matter grey
that hangs between his hairy ears.
He's thick enough not to have fears
and to his goal - Eternal flame -
and that Bridget forever tame.
Tor called out "Donner", he called out "Blitzen"
"take me to Bala, Cerridwen's kitchen."
Over cumulus clouds, snow filled surprise
they saw celebrations some humble, some wise,
others colourful with candles and cake,
mince pies, mulled wine and paper chains to make.
Finally flying, Donner and Blitzen
dropped Tor, down chimney, in the Sow's kitchen.
Cerridwen, unhappy, drew in sharp breath
ready to curse Tor "A cowardly death,
with a pox on his name and unmanly shame!"
Tor quickly said "Sorry! I take the blame."
Flattering wisely, Tor could play the game,
he went into detail of why he came.
Cerridwen matchmaker - that feminine art -
turning pure virgin into wedded tart.
Thinking of Bridget, Tor was a good catch,
whose nature and temper Bride would well match
so the Winter hag told all to young stag,
the quest for his Bride? Oh yes! He would snag.
With a joyous cry did chariot leap
head to the North Pole his promise to keep.
Caer Arianrhod he thundered to goal
with a special gift; his snowiest foal.
Once there, this present he took care to hide;
"First get on the Silvery dam's good side."
This was the white Sow's timely advice
knowing her sister's most fortunate vice
was her collection of Stallions, White.
Tor's aim was simple, his foal for Fire bright.
"Everburning Logs from Caer Arianrhod
her magical stack of seasoned Yew
burns so much better than peat boggy sod,
the fire it gives lasts long, heats well and smells true."
Tor marched boldly to door, ringing her bell,
shouts "Merry Yuletide I hope you are well?"
Arianrhod said "Well? I wish you to Hel!
Jolly or merry I wish not to be
when hammering men come ringing my bell."
"I come from yon well with a gift for thee!"
"What? Breeds Well? A gift for me?"
Once she had said that Tor knew he'd her tree!
The silvery yearling ate sweets from light hand,
safe within gloved hand, soon to be Brides fann'd
flame upon fireplace, her bed a shared space
did hurry Tor, Donner and Blitzen apace.
Did Bride know what plot was afoot
when Tor hurried in all covered in soot?
This tale does not tell, what magical spell
made these adventures end so well,
under the mistletoe our two did kiss
and nine months later they called it Gewis!
In honour of this on each Yule night
there's a fire that burns long and bright
and everyone's heart has a lift
from giving their friends a great gift.
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