Mick Claus

Two nights before Christmas and here in the lab

No one was working, except me, looking drab

I was there ’cause my boss was abundantly clear

I’d much work to do for my thesis next year

I mixed and I stirred, heated and decanted

The swore and shouted, kicked and then ranted

At the height of my anger, liable to do harm

I felt a light touch upon my left arm

I thought it a colleague, but found there instead

A jovial man, in a lab coat, bright red

On his head an elf hat, neatly tied back

On his feet hazmat boots, mint condition, in black

I asked somewhat fuddled who the hell this guy was

He said Santa’s brother, Professor Mick Claus

He sought out young men in pre-thesis strife

To take out and show there’s much more to life

So I, some innocent, playing the clown

Followed this guy for a night on the town

We saw all the pubs, the gigs and nightclubs

Sampled the best recreational drugs

Romanced the women, fought with the men

Put wagers on cock-fights held in a pen

I have to admit, that I had some fun

But quickly found time, out it had run

I went the next day to find my boss pissed

And found to my shock three weeks had I missed

Quickly I realised that that tub of lard

Made time go faster by partying hard

I was out in the doghouse, deep in the shit

My chances of finishing taken a hit

What more the fat bastard, left me a note

I’ll tell it right now, I learned it by rote

“I’ve come through the years to despise competition

So I hobble it early with my style of rendition

Your career now is over, you better give up

You’re screwed, merry Christmas, annoying young pup”

I was burned, that I know, but I’ve learned my lesson

Not be tempted by a pre-season session

So if you want a good Christmas, no story to sob

Just ignore the fat fellah and get on with your job.