Rhyme Time

This is it folks. The time has arrived! One more sleep before the Sint delivers his sack! To say that a certain someone among us can hardly, hardly wait is actually to say nothing at all.

The boy is jazzed.

The mama still has a lot of work to do.

Among the tasks remaining is the wrapping of all gifts in proper Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet paper specific to the season. Then stuffing the burlap bag to burgeoning capacity. Also, there are the poems...

Ah, the poems.

Traditionally, the Sint writes a poem attached to each gift. They are clever, witty, and generally (as the brits say) are meant to take the piss out out of the recipient. For instance, last years poem to Don mentioned the fact that he comes to bed with his socks on, this year's poem will mention something about the way he, *ahem*, keeps his wife up too late every night.

I am The Sint is tinkering with altering lyrics to songs for each member of the family.
Don's holds echoes of Billy Joel's "Piano Man" and Andrew's poem will be set to the tune of the theme song from FIREMAN SAM, just in case you were wondering.

But I am running out of time and inspiration for Ian and Emma.
If you've got some bright ideas (I know you do) about easily alterable lyrics or brilliant poetic stanzas for my teens, please, please, please email me or leave thoughts in the comments.

C'mon, help a poor poet out here!

After all, that last sleep is upon us.