'Twas the night before Christmas,
and tails were a wag.
The Cockers were waiting
for Santa and his bag.

There'd be gifts for the Children
but they also knew,
Santa would remember
a bone or two to chew.

So patiently they waited.
Half closed were the eyes.
Keeping the other half
glued to the skies.

At last, close to Midnight,
they heard a faint jingle,
and low and behold,
there was old Kris Kringle.

The Reindeer were feisty,
they'd come from the snow
to Cockers "Down Under",
such a long way to go.

They watched as dear Santa
placed gifts 'neath the tree.
They watched as he left them
for you and for me.

Those big eyes, so soulful,
as Cocker eyes should,
pleading with Santa
"But we've been so good".

Santa turned on his heel
to head for the roof
to the tapping and scratching
from a reindeer hoof.

He saw them, the Cockers,
watching in awe.
Those eyes, as we know,
even he'd not ignore.

He paused, then he reached down
and pulled from his sack
two small, pretty parcels,
from way down the back.

With a wink of his eye,
that brought the pups glee,
he placed the small parcels
right under the tree.

In a soft spoken voice
he said "don't you peek,
and don't tell the children
though I know you can't speak".

And then he was gone
in the blink of an eye.
Up on the roof,
in the sleigh, to the skies.

The Cockers felt tired,
and drifted to sleep.
Not counting bunnies,
and not counting sheep.

But vaguely the jingle
of bells they could hear
and "Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas
and Happy New Year".

Maree Harding 1996

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	'Twas the night before Christmas, and tails were a wag. The Cockers were waiting for Santa and his bag.
	There'd be gifts for the Children but they also knew, Santa would remember a bone or two to chew.
	So patiently they waited. Half closed were the eyes. Keeping the other half glued to the skies.
	At last, close to Midnight, they heard a faint jingle, and low and behold, there was old Kris Kringle.
	The Reindeer were feisty, they'd come from the snow to Cockers "Down Under", such a long way to go.
	They watched as dear Santa placed gifts 'neath the tree. They watched as he left them for you and for me.
	Those big eyes, so soulful, as Cocker eyes should, pleading with Santa "But we've been so good".
	Santa turned on his heel to head for the roof to the tapping and scratching from a reindeer hoof.
	He saw them, the Cockers, watching in awe. Those eyes, as we know, even he'd not ignore.
	He paused, then he reached down and pulled from his sack two small, pretty parcels, from way down the back.
	With a wink of his eye, that brought the pups glee, he placed the small parcels right under the tree.
	In a soft spoken voice he said "don't you peek, and don't tell the children though I know you can't speak".
	And then he was gone in the blink of an eye. Up on the roof, in the sleigh, to the skies.
	The Cockers felt tired, and drifted to sleep. Not counting bunnies, and not counting sheep.
	But vaguely the jingle of bells they could hear and "Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas and Happy New Year".
Maree Harding 1996

'Twas the night before Christmas, and tails were a wag. The Cockers were waiting for Santa and his bag.

There'd be gifts for the Children but they also knew, Santa would remember a bone or two to chew.

So patiently they waited. Half closed were the eyes. Keeping the other half glued to the skies.

At last, close to Midnight, they heard a faint jingle, and low and behold, there was old Kris Kringle.

The Reindeer were feisty, they'd come from the snow to Cockers "Down Under", such a long way to go.

They watched as dear Santa placed gifts 'neath the tree. They watched as he left them for you and for me.

Those big eyes, so soulful, as Cocker eyes should, pleading with Santa "But we've been so good".

Santa turned on his heel to head for the roof to the tapping and scratching from a reindeer hoof.

He saw them, the Cockers, watching in awe. Those eyes, as we know, even he'd not ignore.

He paused, then he reached down and pulled from his sack two small, pretty parcels, from way down the back.

With a wink of his eye, that brought the pups glee, he placed the small parcels right under the tree.

In a soft spoken voice he said "don't you peek, and don't tell the children though I know you can't speak".

And then he was gone in the blink of an eye. Up on the roof, in the sleigh, to the skies.

The Cockers felt tired, and drifted to sleep. Not counting bunnies, and not counting sheep.

But vaguely the jingle of bells they could hear and "Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas and Happy New Year".

Maree Harding 1996

'Twas the night before Christmas,
and tails were a wag.
The Cockers were waiting
for Santa and his bag.

There'd be gifts for the Children
but they also knew,
Santa would remember
a bone or two to chew.

So patiently they waited.
Half closed were the eyes.
Keeping the other half
glued to the skies.

At last, close to Midnight,
they heard a faint jingle,
and low and behold,
there was old Kris Kringle.

The Reindeer were feisty,
they'd come from the snow
to Cockers "Down Under",
such a long way to go.

They watched as dear Santa
placed gifts 'neath the tree.
They watched as he left them
for you and for me.

Those big eyes, so soulful,
as Cocker eyes should,
pleading with Santa
"But we've been so good".

Santa turned on his heel
to head for the roof
to the tapping and scratching
from a reindeer hoof.

He saw them, the Cockers,
watching in awe.
Those eyes, as we know,
even he'd not ignore.

He paused, then he reached down
and pulled from his sack
two small, pretty parcels,
from way down the back.

With a wink of his eye,
that brought the pups glee,
he placed the small parcels
right under the tree.

In a soft spoken voice
he said "don't you peek,
and don't tell the children
though I know you can't speak".

And then he was gone
in the blink of an eye.
Up on the roof,
in the sleigh, to the skies.

The Cockers felt tired,
and drifted to sleep.
Not counting bunnies,
and not counting sheep.

But vaguely the jingle
of bells they could hear
and "Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas
and Happy New Year".