GOOD KING SANTA CLAUS

Good King Santa Claus looked out
On the feast of Stephen.
Venison lay all about,
Crisply grilled and even.
Brightly shone the screen that night,
On Microsoft Essentials,
When a yokel hove in sight
Gathering broken Pe-en-cils.

"Ho! Ho! Elf, come sit by me
Quaff this pint of bitter.
Yonder yokel who be he?
Where and what his Twitter?"
"Sire, he hath not I.S.P.
Smartphone, Whatsapp, Facebook
Neither Kindle nor PC
Merely manual no-ote-book."

"Bring me Samsung Galaxy;
Bring me Apples hither.
Thou and I delightedly
Shall we bear them thither."
Forth they went in Four by Four
Through the wild terrain there,
Rude and wild sleigh rides no more
They'd dined on all the re-in-deer.

"Sire, the steering's lost its feel;
I can drive no longer.
We should have used the snowmobile,
'Gainst winter's wind 'tis stronger."
"Mark my words good elf, take heart,
Though this car be splinters
I'll sinter some replacement parts
Using 3D pr-in-ters."

Malware must have hacked that code
For four by four equipment.
The CIA from secret node
Played sod with Santa's shipment.
Therefore surfers please be sure,
When Amazon addressing.
Weak web passwords insecure
Are a hacker's ble-ss-ing.

(Here are the original words for comparison:- )

Good King Wenceslas looked out,
on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
deep and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night,
tho’ the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight,
gath’ring winter fuel.

'Hither, page, and stand by me,
if thou know’st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?'
'Sire, he lives a good league hence,
underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence,
by Saint Agnes’ fountain.'

'Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,
bring me pine logs hither:
Thou and I will see him dine,
when we bear them thither.'
Page and monarch, forth they went,
forth they went together;
Through the rude wind’s wild lament
and the bitter weather.

"Sire, the night is darker now,
and the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart, I know not how;
I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, good my page.
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage
freeze thy blood less coldly.”

In his master’s steps he trod,
where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod
which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor,
shall yourselves find blessing.

© Dec 2014, Severin Didrik Petter Finne