Up on the great north plain,
Stood watch through a snowstorm
And stayed out in the rain
In hope of seeing Santa fly
And heaven's child reign.
The lad kept up his vigil,
Through changing Christmas breezes,
And made hopeful lists and prayer
In defiance of diseases.
He breathed soft words of thanks and praise
In between the sneezes.
By early dawn he heard some bells,
Like those rung through the ages
"I've been good the whole year long,"
The child coughed through fever's rages,
"Ho ho ho!," a flying elf replied,
"But now you are contagious!"
The little fellow was rewarded,
As the sleigh sped o'er night's vault,
With Santa's middle finger
And a fat elf's cursed assault:
"If Christmas spreads the pox this year,
It's little Dougie's fault!"
NOG, n. The blended deprivation of calf, chick and Australian.