Bill and John, talking about the 1812 overture, the one I bought recently by James De Preist, Oregon Symphony, was made possible by a grant from WTD industries, Inc. Again American produced and far superior to our recordings. And talking of blowing woofers it does have real cannon by the Black Rose Artillery, the innitial explosion of the guns is not to much to worry about but the exhaust from the black powder charge realy makes them zing!, anyhow so far so good no noticable damage. Well as this is the start of advent for Christmas I will show you a poem by my partner Linda who writes for the Black Country Bugle, a local Black Country weekly, most of the dialect is (yo ay am ya) hope you understand it, here it is. It's called Ode to the fust Santa,
About 2,000 years ago
When Jesus came to earth
God ad a great idea
Ter celebrate His birth.
Instead of sendin presents
To your New-born heavenly brother
why don't we have a system
where we send them to each other
The truth was all that frankincense
was gettin up God's nose
An all that gold was wasted
couse He day need no new clothes
He said I'll hire someone
To take the presents round
I'll call the season Christmas
And kindness will abound
He called his worker Santa
In fact his name was Fred
God said you'll wear a beard of white
And a suit of brightest red
The interview it went alright
But Fred, he ad a question
He'd thought about it all night long
It give im indigestion
I checked this on the internet
so I know i've gorrit right
This present distribution
Ull tek longer than a night
Not countin sum religions
Like Muslim or Hindu
Nor Jewish kids nor Buddhist
Cause they doh beleive in You
That leaves 300 million
It'll be a tidy run
An just a day ter do it in
The job just cor be dun
I've gorra park me sleigh up
Get down there pretty frisky
Put all the presents neath the tree
An maybe grab a whisky
An all I've got is reindeer
The flyin type admitted
But eight of em wo be enough
This fact Yo ave omitted
Well God sot there a smirkin
He said don't be so dense
How far were you back in the queue
When I dished out the sense
You're just a mere human
You'd do ten streets at best
You simply offer up a prayer
And I'll do all the rest
Well, the day before he started
Fred thought he'd ave a drink
But one led to another
Till he could'nt stond nor think
An just when he was vulnerable
His senses fell apart
The devil paid a visit
And put pride within his heart
He said yo doh need help from God
Yo'll do it on yer own
The silly chap beleived all this
And then he staggered ome
At last the time was ready
The bloke gorrin his sleigh
His pride was overwhelmin'
So did he pray? he day
With all them presents piled up high
Computers, dolls and guns
It med the payload of the sleigh
600,000 tons
Ter pull that weight yo'd need ter reach
600 miles p.s.
In .001 seconds
The result wor arf a mess
Ter travel at that speed
Creates enormous air resistance
It vapourised the reindeer
And blew Santa from existance
The beasts, the sleigh and Santa
Were instantly combusted
Leavin people lookin blank
And suitably disgusted
So if one night yo look up
I've got this funny inklin
Them bits of shiny things up there
Might not be stars a twinklin
By Linda Matthews.
All the best everyone Mick.