Copyright © 2008 Goodness of Garlic
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 | 'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the place
The aroma of garlic
Was right in your face
The children were sleeping
All snug in their beds
While visions of garlic bulbs
Danced in their heads
I woke up at two
To see what was doing
Imagine my shock
When I saw what was brewing
Santa stood on a stool
In front of the oven
A spoon in his hand
He was cooking with lovin'
A great pot of soup
Was bubbling away
What a weird concoction
For this Christmas day
Old Santa was grinding
With a great deal of noise
Some Goodness of Garlic
And ignoring the toys
I looked at the sack
Just tossed on the floor
While Santa was mumbling
“I think it needs more”
So he reached in the cupboard
For the grinder he sought
And proceed to dump it
All into the pot
The air was intense
Oh my, it was smelly!
Santa's nose began twitching
And so did his belly
He said with great gusto
His face red as a beet
“I'm tired of cookies
And the treats and the sweets” |
“Now this is a dish
That can rightly be said
Will clear up my sniffles
And the rest of my head”
He finished his soup
With no hint of dismay
And went up the chimney
To find his great sleigh
His reindeer were waiting
To finish the rounds
Santa jumped in the sleigh
Making satisfied sounds
It was truly a Christmas
I'll not soon forget
As I washed up the dishes
I had no regrets
I had spent time with Santa
While he cooked up a storm
He was jolly and happy
In really fine form
I wasn't quite sure
What would happen that day
When Santa got home
In his smelly old sleigh
Perhaps Mrs. Claus
Would wrinkle her nose
'Cause Santa would surely
Stink not like a rose
As I pondered all that
My thoughts were jarred loose
By the sleigh starting up
It was time to vamoose
And I heard from the roof
The familiar refrain
“Merry Christmas to all
And to all a Good Night!”
- by Lloyd Mc, just for fun!
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THE SPECIAL POETRY OF FRANK GLEESON
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Frank Gleeson, well-known cowboy
poet and entertainer, was kind enough to compose a poem
for us after his very entertaining appearance at the 2003 South Cariboo Garlic Festival.
Thank you
for all your support, Frank,
and a special "Thanks" for this poem!
For
more information on Frank Gleeson, please visit his website...
Click Here.
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Well I'll tell you 'bout a Cariboo farm
Just out of Forest Grove
Where they raise this stuff called garlic
That they call the stinking rose
So ladies if you're all decked out
And feeling kind of cute
And you got on extra roll-on deodorant
Stuck way down in your boot
Just leave your fancy perfume at home
No matter what the name
'Cause when we get through eating garlic
See, we're all going to smell the same
Oh, I don't mean to knock them
'Cause I think they're kind of sweet
But you can tell a garlic eater
When you meet them on the street
So just load up with garlic
See, you've got no time to waste
You can spread it on your pancakes
In jam or in a paste
So come out to the Festival
And the grub a whirl
And nibble on that garlic
'Til your toenails start to curl
Oh, they say that it's healthy
And good in every way
See, I think the smell of garlic
Just drives all them germs away
Yes, they say it's good for colic
Or a pain down in your gut
Or if you have fallen arches
Or a blister on your butt
Oh, it lowers your blood pressure
Yes, it works just like a dream
It will help you pass your water
If you've got a real weak stream
So if you are an old guy
And not having any fun
It will raise up your libido
So you'll think you're 21
So come out to Kariboo Farms
And have yourselves a ball
And let's make this garlic festival
The greatest one of all!
Copyright © Frank Gleeson
August 22, 2003 |
Garlic...Builder of Spirit,
Aromatic Conquerer |
There once was woman named Gail
Who ate them without fail
The garlic she grew
Tasted great in a stew
In ice cream, in chutney or quail
Oh garlic, so humble and fine
with taste and aroma sublime
When I'm feeling low
A great gift you bestow
When sauteed with some chicken and wine
If you've a cold inside your nose
find a place where Garlic grows
With onions, simmered in a pot
Drink it while it's nice and hot
If you partake of this fine soup
You will no longer feel like poop
Believe me for I know quite well
There's more to Garlic then the smell
Of a valiant Garlic
A tale I now recite
Of bravery and sacrifice
Of knowing wrong from right
The roses stood alone
Unprotected from the bugs
Who came and munched and gnawed on them
The creepy little thugs
They cried "Oh please protect us"
But their anguish was for naught
For the flowers and the shrubs nearby
Were more concerned with rot
Then came the valiant Garlic bulb
The stinker and the rose
That grew around the roses
And the pests, in terror, froze
"You stay away", the Garlic said
"The rose she is my friend
I'll nourish and protect her
Until the bitter end"
They have a saying, in garden speak
That everybody knows
"Roses love the garlic,
And the Garlic loves the Rose"
The above were written by:
Christina McCann, Forest Grove, BC |
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