Night before Christmas

It was the night before Christmas,

Not a thing was heard or seen at first

For the cold night was at its worst

But three woodcutters walked through the forest

Marching joyfully towards home

It was cold, terribly cold that no one could make sense of it

So the woodcutters held their lamps close to their hearts to keep warm

And to avoid the many snares the treacherous Night lay

Near the forest end, where the hills and rocky caves began

They saw a family of squirrels dining on red palm nuts

Yelling and laughing softly, they sent the rodents scampering for safety

And when they came to the Mountainside, she stood still, sad,

In fact, this sadness touched the woodcutters that they forgot

The squirrels and all that had brought them joy that evening

Even the Harmattan dusts had painted the mountain white

And so she stood in the forest, like a strange and lonely phantom

Eyeing the thousands of faun and flora that lived close to her

At first she was still, but when the villain, Harmattan came again

She grew worse, from sadness to great outrage and pain

Now as the woodcutters crossed the bridge leading to the hamlet

The wolf clan came out to gather their evening meal

They circled the forests, scavenging and causing a curfew

By the forest end, where the hills and rocky caves began

They saw the lonely triangular figure staring at them sadly

‘Don’t stare at me that way, ma’am’, the wolf leader whispered

‘I am neither your lover or your hater’, he said loudly

‘Aw! This lady here is very sad’, one of the wolves said

‘Look at her face, reminds me of the queer Willy-Willy!’

‘Haha! Crazy! I wonder why she is always like that. Well not my business!’

‘Hmm, the mountain has been like this since summer time.’ said the Linnets

‘It has been a rough year for her, no love to cheer her up’ Patridges answered

In their imagination, the sad Mountain needed more love

‘How strange!’ the canopy of trees around the riverside echoed

Not minding the monkeys and apes, hundreds of them

Hanging on their branches, watching the storm and wolves make fun

And when the monkeys yelled and drummed with all their might

The wolves and the Harmattan fled with her entourage of wind and dust