Twas the Week before Christmas
Twas the month of December and all through the city,
The lights were strung up and the river looked pretty.
The cyclists still, rode their bikes on the ice,
I’ve had some close calls, maybe once, maybe twice.
The roads nearby Flogsta are lethal and steep,
I gasp when I slip and the hills make me weep.
I should learn that this place aint no garden of eden,
I’m living up north in the land they call Sweden.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful land,
Summer is gorgeous, its beauty is grand.
Autumn’s sweet too, as the leaves go deep orange,
Who am I fooling by rhyming with orange?
But prepare for the winters, they’re cold and they’re dark.
‘winter is coming’ said Arya Stark,
Or maybe said Ned from the heights of the wall,
It wasn’t from Jon, who knows nothing at all.
Show quotes aside, winter’s definitely here,
Although days are short, skies are beautifully clear.
Christmas is close, people laden with bags,
Swedes dress their gardens with tinsel and flags.
Coffee shops filled with exuberant folk,
tucked in the corner on chairs made of oak.
Some eating cakes whilst some sip on their coffees,
Some tucking in to their chocolates and toffees.
Choirs dressed in white flow down streets by the mall,
Candles in hand saying ‘don’t let me fall!’
‘Sankta Lucia’, a tune that they sing,
Beautifully sounding and fit for a king.
Christmas is magic and swedes seems to know,
they celebrate advent and put on a show.
Fireworks, Christmas lights highlight the sky,
above all the cyclists riding on by.
The year has been long but eventful and fun,
I’m crazy for tea and a cinnamon bun.
I speak broken Swedish and cycle to class,
I’m studying hard in the hope that I pass!
But now, I must go, for my family await,
I still haven’t packed and I dread being late.
Christmas is here and, I must now catch my flight
Happy Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!