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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