Summer in the Seychelles

Summer in the Seychelles and the weather’s scorching hotSid saw Santa sailing, in the harbour on a yachtAlthough he wasn’t wearing clothes that Santa Claus should wearSid knew him by his bushy beard and flowing snow-white hairHe knew him by his glowing cheeks and by his bright red noseHe knew him by the way he wore some tinsel on his toesYoung Sidney pondered hard and long and wondered what to doPerhaps he’d go and volunteer to be part of his crewBut seeing Santa sitting on the poop deck on his ownSid made it his decision that he’d leave the man aloneSlowly sipping soda Sidney slurped his ice cold drinkWhen Santa turned to Sidney and he gave the boy a winkThen all at once the boat rose up, and to the sky it rearedA thunderous roar a puff of smoke and Santa disappeared