Published by Torry Crass on

St. Nicolas be ye certain still, a fortnight twixt yet to pass afore ye be at sill!
Hold taught this day whence of love and thanks be filled.

Let nay dreary thoughts befuddle our minds, for hope and thanks should be what ye finds.
Family, friendship and kindred love this day tis what binds.

Tis yet again a harvest gone and past.
But hark! A new year, nigh on swift boots of Mercury, before us is cast.
Our strength and friendships renewed again another year to last.

Hence now to rest a while afore winters frozen gaze.
To hearth and wood fire alas we go to remember these days,
traditions to celebrate with fowl and maze.

Be ye merry and count thy blessings both young and old,
Next round mayhap our spoils not be quite so bold.
Even in that, all matters not, for good hearts and good company be more valuable than gold.

November 2009
Categories: Poetry


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