The Ballad of Sian Barber, Neurotic
Tune: whatever.

A long time ago, down in Wellington town
A beautiful baby was born
They wrapped her up snug in a wee little gown
Just like her great-grandma had worn
And soon she was crawling, then soon she could walk
Good Lord, how they grow, oh so quick!
Then as soon as that beautiful girl learned to talk
They took her to see old St. Nick

He was dressed up in red in the sweltering heat
With white fur like a rich Russian prince
And the kiddies would sit on his lap, very sweet
And would give him their toy-shopping hints
And their mamas would stand by the speakers outside
And note down their kids' favourite stash
And the elves would take photographs (way overpriced)
And collect lots of holiday cash

So down to this hallowed establishment came
The little kids with their mamas
And they got in the line and sucked peppermint canes
And waited to see Santa Claus
And the little girl, name of Sian, was right there in the line
And she was the next one to go
When that jolly old elf set a little boy down
And ripped out with a loud, "Ho ho ho!"

Now some of the mothers had been to this place
When they were themselves little girls
Dressed up oh, so pretty in ribbons and lace
Their hair done in beautiful curls
And they wistfully thought back to childhood's delights
Where could they, they all would soon go
Back to innocent days and sweet happy-dream nights
All brought back by that sound, "Ho ho ho!"

What a sound! What a cry! What sweet beautiful noise!
So rich with sweet memories and dreams!
But to little Sian it was not filled with joys:
When she heard it, she started to scream!
She ran from the place with her hands on her ears,
Her confused mother following after
And it didn't much help that the other kids jeered
And chased her away with their laughter!

Now I know it's cliché when they say, "scarred for life"
But in this case it really is fitting
For poor little Sian for the rest of her life
Never went to a photograph sitting!
And she hated and feared that respectable elf
That the other kids all thought was great
And when she was a mother she said to herself
"I'll prevent my kids sharing my fate."

So she worked and she worked till she got herself hired
At Westaff Recruitment & Co.
And she made sure that every Santa was fired
Who said to the kids, "Ho ho ho."
Now New Zealand is quiet, and St. Nick says, "there, there,"
To the children who sit on his knee
And the mothers who stand by the loudspeakers there
Think, "This isn't how it used to be."

Yes another tradition has gone down the tubes
Another sweet memory shot
By do-gooding, meddling, joy-killing boobs
Who hate anything they haven't got
And one high-strung woman with hair-trigger nerves
As tight as an archer's long bow
Has trampled tradition by ensuring no-one serves
As a Santa, who goes, "Ho ho ho."

Copyright ©2001 Alex Riggle. All Rights Reserved.