Santa Claus on Christmas Eve,
With reindeer ready, he did believe.
But alas, poor Santa had a bit to drink,
His sleigh swerving, he couldn't think.
Santa's nose, so brighter than Rudolph's,
From what he’d drunk, certainly not the cold.
"Santa," the elves warned, "you've had too much cheer,
Jetting around on Christmas Eve no good to blow .05
Surely, Mrs Claus should drive
Because if he gets caught by the RBT
Then he’ll lose his licence indefinitely
But Santa laughed, "I'm fine, my dear,
Just spreading joy, no need for fear."
Down the chimney, he tried to squeeze,
Tripped on his boots, caught in a breeze.
The elves were worried, the workshop in a fuss,
Santa's driving skills were clearly a minus.
Mrs. Claus took charge, said with a smile,
"Santa, my love, you've been naughty for a while."
She hopped in the sleigh, grabbed the reins,
Guiding the team through snow and lanes.
Santa in the back, a bit dazed and confused,
His jolly demeanor now slightly bruised.
To all the houses, Mrs. Claus delivered,
With precision and grace, she slithered.
Gifts placed under trees with meticulous care,
While Santa napped, unaware.
The North Pole buzzed, a gossiping spree,
Santa's mishap, the talk of the tree.
But Mrs. Claus, she saved the night,
Driving the sleigh with all her might.
So here's to Mrs. Claus, the unsung hero,
Steering the sleigh with grace and zero ego.
Next year, perhaps Santa will learn,
To limit his eggnog and take a sleigh turn.