Bon après-midi mes batteurs joyeux de la Turquie !
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the kitchen,
Not a reindeer was stirring, not even poor Blitzen
The others were trussed up in the chiller with care,
And there hopes had been dashed with a telescopic glare
The Chefs were boozed up and snug on their tables,
While visions of turkeys danced in their fables
With jackets and ‘kerchiefs, and dark blue skull caps,
Were all washed and pressed and left in a stack
When up on the roof of the kitchen…a clatter,
They rose from their stupor to see what was the matter
Away through the door they stumbled together,
Apart from the Commis who had been tarred and feathered
The moon was now shrouded with dark clouds and fog,
And in the distance a howl from a lonesome old dog
On the roof they did spy a sleigh glowing bright,
All glittered and magical, “Oh my, what a sight”
But no driver or reindeer could be seen on the roof,
They all seemed to have vanished, disappeared...POOF!
Then all of a sudden, a voice boomed through the night,
And it was such a loud shout, that the Chefs got a fright
Hey Dasher, Hey Dancer, Hey Prancer and Vixen,
Oi comet, Oi Cupid, Oi Donder and Blitzen!
”Where are you, you bone idle bastards” he cried,
”Anymore of this nonsense and I’ll skin you alive”
But no answer arrived to this poor fat chaps yawp,
Nothing, nada, niente, nought!
With a rub of his nose and a sigh so distraught,
His head fell to his hands as if in deep thought
He looked at his watch, rubbed his white beard and ‘tache,
Sprinkled his magic dust and was gone in a flash
The Chefs stood stunned at what they had seen,
Unbelieving eyes transfixed by the whole scene
”Oh S**t” said the Sous “We’ve screwed Christmas this year”,
We’ve only gone and shot all of Santa’s f*****g reindeer”
They all turned to the Chef, a worried look in their eyes,
“This is your fault”, they said, “Though it’s not a surprise”
“You’ve been gunning for Rudolph for years!” they exclaimed,
“For years” they cried “You have been waiting to maim”
”That poor lovely reindeer with a nose so red,
You just couldn’t help yourself and lopped off his head”
“Oh for Gods sake” the Chef did retort,
”It wasn’t just me who was hunting for sport”
“You were all there too and if I remember correctly,
It was you my fine Commis who gutted his belly!”
“And you, my Sous Chef, with a smile on your face,
Removed his red nose and cooked it with mace!”
Then all of a sudden, an old man appeared,
And there stood next to them, a man they all feared
Not Satan, nor Judas or that guy from X Factor,
But the man they call Cringle, a demonic looking Santa
The crew cowered in his presence, there were no more excuses,
They had butchered his reindeer, but they had their uses
“Now”, yelled Santa, in his red and white suit,
“Who will pull my sleigh and deliver this loot?”
“Because of your antics, no children will see,
All the presents, made by the elves, under their trees”
“Considering all of my reindeer were slain,
There is only one justice, here, their reins”
And as quick as you like the Chefs had been muzzled,
To be very honest they were looking quite puzzled
With more magic dust and a kick up the ass,
They were hooked up to the sleigh, Santa just laughed
“This will teach you”, he said with a grin,
He reached for his whip, “Let the punishment begin!”
And as Santa drove the Chefs into the night,
They all knew that they were deep in the sh*te
When Christmas morning came to the restaurant in question,
There were no Chefs, no turkey or festivities to mention
Just silence and peace, a fitting end to our story,
After the slaughter, blood and guts that were so gory
But simmering in a pan of clarified butter and mace,
An item that no one could ever replace
A nose, still red, and glowing so bright,
Filleted from Rudolph, just the other night!
Chers lecteurs de Joyeux Noël. Ayez l'amusement!
Le Chef Grincheux
