Primordial Poem
‘Twas the night before launch, when all thru the hoose
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Moose
Profiles were setup on Seedrs with care
In hopes that the soup fans would soon would get their share
The fam were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of success danced in their heads
Pete is hungover Dewsbury wears a fox hat
To the industry ready to say FUCK THAT!
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Gave the luster to the headfuck of objects below
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Promordial DJ’s and a shit load of beer
With a little old driver obscured by dark
I knew in a moment it must be engineer Mark
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came
And he whistled, and shouted, and call’d them by name
“Now! Dewsbury, now! Moose, now! Pete Failey!”
“Roll up your sleeves this is going to be your daily”
“To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!”
“Go spread the word, spread it to all!”
As dry leaves danced around on the lawn
Filming this all is video John
So up to the house-tops the DJ’s they flew
With a sleigh full of booze and stonking tunes too
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
Prancing and pawing and then a big OOF!
As I drew in my head, and was turning around
Down the chimney Dews came with a bound
He was pissed as a fart, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnish’d with ashes and soot
A sack of beers was flung on his back
And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack
His eyes how they twinkled! His chuckles, how merry
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry
His happy mouth was drawn up like a bow
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow
There, an ecig, held tight in his teeth
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath
He had a beardy face, and salon worthy hair
When filmed in slo-mo, flicked with flair
He was lofty and spite, a right jolly self
And I laugh’d when I saw him in spite of myself
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And filled up our playlists; then turn’d with a jerk
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose
He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle
And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle
But I heard Moose exclaim, as they drove out of sigh
Go fuck yourselves all, and to all a good night
Juls Barkel