Santa’s Greatest Secret.
By Lyndon Jeremiah.
Many miles away from here,
In a far and distant place.
Across the Crystal Mountains,
And through the Icy Wastes.
A mile from where your dreams are,
Turn left at wonderland.
You’ll find a house that no one knows,
And a very special man
He’s very large and jolly,
With a beard as white as snow.
Of course it’s Father Christmas,
But there’s something you don’t know.
When it turns December,
And the elves have made the toys.
He makes sure they’re delivered,
To all the girls and boys.
It isn’t always easy,
Some years it’s very tough.
But always by the 26th
Santa has had enough
He locks up all the workshops,
Puts the tools away.
Feeds the reindeer for the winter,
And gives the Elves their pay.
He packs his summer suitcase,
Loads up his other sleigh.
The one that won’t be noticed,
On the motorway.
He heads off to his Homeland.
The place from which he hails.
It’s always been a secret,
That Santa comes from Wales!
He was born in Aberpandy.
Where he ran and played all day.
It was here he learnt the secret,
How to give, not take away.
In the land where smiles are plenty,
He lived with Mam and Dad.
Santa told them of his worries,
And why he felt so sad.
“I think of other children,
It makes me feel so bad.
They haven’t been so lucky,
To have the lovely life I’ve had.”
As Santa he grew older,
A Miner he became.
Followed his Father’s footsteps,
He worked hard just the same.
Descending the mine shaft,
It was always dark as night.
How he wished that everything
Was beautiful and white.
After work he liked to sing,
Around an open fire.
Singing was in Santa’s blood,
That’s why he joined the choir.
On Saturdays he liked to go,
Put on his weekend suit.
A big black sack upon his back,
Contained his rugby boots.
For Santa was a winger.
You should have seen him fly.
He waved to all the children,
Each time he scored a try.
His skill it was a mystery.
His team mates could not tell.
Why every time he passed the ball,
They heard a jingle bell.
His speed it was fantastic.
Santa ran at lightning pace.
He swerved and sold a dummy,
With a smile upon his face
His reputation, it was growing.
A matter of time it seemed.
That Santa was selected
For The Welsh National Team!
At last he made his debut.
His friends had always said.
Santa, he was destined,
To wear the colour red
He stood and sang the anthem.
His Mam and Dad were proud.
“Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau”
Was never sung so loud.
But Santa left it all behind.
I think he always knew.
That destiny was calling,
From where the North Wind Blew
Santa now works for the World.
All countries wide and far.
Wales’ greatest export,
A global Superstar
But, being Welsh is not where you are from,
Or the colour of your skin.
It’s the good you do for others,
And the love you have within.
So if you’re lying in your bed,
Head full of Christmas tales.
Remember it’s a secret.
Santa comes from Wales!
