T’was the night
before Christmas,
when all through the
town,
The Wolfe Island
turbines echoed a swooshing sound.
The wind leases were hung by the chimney with
care,
In hopes that BP soon would be there;
The windies were nestled all snug in their
beds,
While visions of riches danced in their
heads.
Voters for Wind dressed in their green shirts
and caps,
Had just settled in for their long winter
naps.
When across the river
arose such a clatter,
They sprang from
their beds to see what was the matter.
Away to the window
they flew like a flash,
Hoping to get a bag
full of cash.
The shadow flicker
hitting the new fallen snow,
Gave the luster of
mid-day to objects below;
When, what to their
wondering eyes should appear,
But a view of Wolfe
Island and eight maimed reindeer.
When They met with
the blades,
More rapid than
eagles their demise had come.
As the turbines
chopped them up one by one...
~~~
5 comments:
Imagine, bringing us Christmas cheer with the thought of chopped-up reindeer. Ho! Ho! HO!
Brilliant!
Just what I needed this morning...a good laugh!
Posted by K. Muschell, what a wing nut. I see where your Christmas spirit is and will always be, in the garbage. First it's the birds and the bats, now it's Santas reindeer. You're reaching for new material and it's deep in the sewers where your ideas come from. Good bye.
8:55 Obviously you don't beleive in santa and his low flying sled.This was just a joke for your entertainment..... get into the christmas sprit you moron..... You just get so testy whenever you think someone is standing between you and your wind blood money...
just how does it feel trying to throw this town overboard just for a few buck in your pocket?
The quicker you,BP and their wind turbines get out of this town the better !!!!!!
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