The Christmas Cheer

On Christmas Eve’s eleventh hour

All is hushed in wood and tower.

Birds shiver in the evergreen

But ye, who by the window lean,

Yes, ye who sit upon the sill,

Oh bend your ears until, until

You hear it fleeting through the air:

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

The Christmas Cheer!

On Christmas Eve’s eleventh hour

The snow lies on the ground like flour:

The Pastry Cook who lives Above

Shook it down through his great sieve.

And ye, who sit upon the sill

Shall hear a roaring from the hill,

Shall hear a rumbling from afar,

Shall hear it softly drawing near:

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

The Christmas Cheer!

Midnight is close and in their beds

Children lift their sleeping heads

And whisper soft:  Hurrah!  Hurrah!

As through the myriad of snows

Lilting, lifting as it goes,

It comes, that song from olden times,

Mingling with the midnight chimes

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

That now ring out for all to hear

Both near and far, and far and near,

Hurrah!  Hurrah!

The Christmas Cheer!

__________________

And may I wish a Merry Christmas to all you good Hawkers and Potters out there!

Meh!

Well, of the four Hawker's Pot goat-themed Christmas cards this year, this one has been the runaway seller (leaving Scrooge and his nocturnal goaty visitants in its cloven-hooved wake):

Inside, needless to say, it says "Meh-rry Christmas."

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I will be peddling these in Stroud and Bristol over the next two weekends.  On Sunday 15th December I will have my suitcase open at Dennis Gould's Open Studio and Letterpress Workshop on Gloucester Street in Stroud (by the Star Anise Cafe) between 10 and 4.  Dennis's workshop is always worth visiting, so it's a real pleasure to have been invited along with my suitcase. 

The cards are also available in the Made In Stroud shop.

Three Booklets and Some Bleating Christmas Cards

The Hawker’s Pot suitcase will be out this weekend in Stroud with various new goodies in its compartments.  These will include:

goat-themed Christmas cards

as well as three new booklets, containing illustrated poems about the mysterious hawker:

The Hawker's Pot Song

The Hawker by the Sea

and

The Hawker in Autumn.

I will  be at the Lansdown Arts Fair on Saturday (10-4 in the Lansdown Hall) and then at the Stroud Sunday Market (10 till 3).  

(The set of three booklets costs £18.  If it should so happen that you do not live in Stroud, Gloucestershire, but would like to purchase a set, please drop me a line via email and I will arrange to send one out to you.)

The Invisible Rose

O worm! thou art sick.

The invisible rose

That flies through the night

Holding her nose,

Has found out thy bed

Of mouldy old earth,

And is blowing you kisses

For all she is worth.

(after William Blake)

Two Jokes about Tea

 

 

While the Hawker's Pot is full of tea, may I take the opportunity to recommend the rather splendid breakfast-related punning names of the Contributors to the London Review of Breakfasts (whose Malcolm Eggs I met at the Cheltenham Literature Festival today).

Algernon and Mavis (Part 2): X Marks the Spot

Mavis is not going to be put off by Algernon’s scruples any longer.

One evening they are sitting on the couch when Mavis points a finger at her cheek and says: “You might want to put a little x there ...”

Algernon fails to understand.

Mavis pouts.

“You know,” she says, “a little x,” and she blows some x   x   x   over at him.

Algernon looks as blank as a blackboard.

“Eh?” he asks.

Mavis sees they are talking at X-purposes.  She knits her brow in perplexity, which Algernon interprets as a sign that Mavis is about to get very X indeed.

“You want me to ... ?” he hazards.

“Kiss me,” says Mavis huskily.

Which Algernon (after some hesitation) reaches forward to do.  But just at that moment Mavis inadvertently moves her head: their lips brush for an instant! an instant that almost destroys them both with the intensity of its feeling, while the fumes of passion mount to all the parts of Algernon’s anatomy, to his X, to his Y, to his Z.

Talk is Sheep