Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Play


Fool:
Room! Room! Brave gallants all
Come give us room to rhyme
We’ve come to show activity
While it’s still Christmas time.
Beneath the stars on this 12th Night
We’ll bring to life the age old fight
A hero will battle with all his might
To defeat the darkness and set things right.
Come forth Saint George!
Don’t be so proud!
Address yourself to this fine crowd.
Saint George: 
In comes I, Saint George,
a man of courage bold.
With my broad axe and my broad sword,
I’ve won three crowns of gold.
Father Christmas:
In comes I, old Father Christmas,
welcome or welcome not.
I hope old Father Christmas
will never be forgot.
Christmas comes but once a year
And when it does, it brings good cheer.
Twelve nights of roast beef, strong ale and mince pie.
Does anyone like that any better than I?
Even at my advanced age of two thousand and ten.
Christmas Tree:
This country’s gotten so P.C.
I’m told I can’t say “Christmas Tree.”
So, in comes I,
the tree that dare not say its name.
At Saturnalia in ancient Rome,
they welcomed me in to their home.
After the Romans took a fall
I decked the merry Yuletide hall.
Artificial, live or balled,
it matters not what I am called.
Ever green am I!
I raise my branches to the sky!
Saint George:
Good morrow sire
Father Christmas:
Good Morrow Son.
Our long year’s work
is nearly done.
Dark Knight:
In comes I the old Dark Knight.
I’ll give Old Saint George a fright.
I’ll split his skull and break his bone.
Then I’ll steal his cellular phone.
(Marches up to George and taps his shoulder)
I’ll Pinch your cheeks.
I’ll box your ears.
With my rapier wit
I’ll reduce you to tears.
Saint George:
Oh please, I’m English, do remember.
With my sharp tongue, foes I dismember.
I look down my nose.
I thrust out my chin.
My tsk, tsk, tsk will do you in.
A Battle ensues. Saint George falls.
Father Christmas:
Oh, Dark Knight, what have you done?
Robbed the life of this my son,
Whose life had only just begun,
Now set too soon, like the winter sun.
A doctor! 
A doctor must be found! (pronounce so it rhymes with wound)
To save him from this grievous wound.
A doctor could save one, this I'll wager
I'll try to beep one on his pager.
(Take out cell phone and dial. Speak in to the cell phone as if you are speaking to a doctor.)
Yes! I paged you on your beeper!
Please come at once to raise this sleeper!
The Doctor:
In comes I, the doctor
The best you’ve ever seen.
I can put the lead back in your pencil
and the jump in the jumping bean.
I have snake oil, brake oil,
Hot Jalapeno and extra strength Tylenol.
My remedies all taste delicious.
Oh come now, don’t look so suspicious,
I can cure the worst affliction—
PMS, caffeine addiction,
male pattern baldness, or hidden rashes
but I draw the line at stock market crashes.
If there’s nine demons in I’ll fetch ten out. 
I’ll make this sleeper rise and shout!
They say THIS works on the internet!
(Administer remedy. It doesn't work)
Father Christmas: 
Enough with all the New Age hoaxes
Just give me a diagnosis!
Doctor: Dead as a doornail.
Doctor:
Green in winter when all lies dead,
come, lay your branches at his head.
Water of life, pray be forgiving.
Bring this one back to the living.
Doctor:
He lives again, neither dead nor ill
The time has come to pay my bill
Father Christmas:
I’ll file this with the new health care
They’ll pay at once what they think fair.
Tree:
They’ll be sad when they discover.
Resurrection isn’t covered. 
Saint George:
Now Christmas is past, 
Twelfth Night is the last. 
To the Old Year adieu, 
Great joy to the new.
Doctor:
So come Saint George, with all your ego,
our play is done, it’s time that we go.

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