Scary Christmas to all, and to all a good fright!

The Krampus is an old European Christmas tradition, in which Santa had a devilish sidekick, the “Krampus”, who would punish the naughty children, ofttimes in horrific ways. I thought it was about time he had a Christmas poem of his very own. For more Krampus information check out this National Geographic article. For more information on the Yule Lads, and other Christmas monsters of history, see Mental Floss’ 9 Legendary Monsters of Christmas.

 

T’was the Night of the Krampus

by Chris Holland
 

T’was the eve of the Krampus and black as the night
Santa’s dark helper was up to a fright
The stockings were hung with ill-fated hope
For Santa’s great list marked these children “NOPE!”

So down swept the Krampus from razor-cold wind
To whip at the wicked and sentence the sin
Upon his hunched back a basket was perched
Laden with switches and branches of birch

His hooves were a-cloven, his horns like a goat
All covered with blackened & matted fur coat
He slithers and slinks, smelling of dung
He sniffs at the air and uncoils his tongue

As long as your arms and red as your blood
Dripping saliva, a venomous flood
He skitters through windows and cracks under doors
He crawls down the chimneys and claws up through floors

He stalks the impertinent, bullies, and thieves
He finds all the children that Santa’s sleigh leaves
The ones who are naughty or who disobey
He scoops from their beds and he carries away

Those who are foul and cause parents grief
Those that deny any Santa belief
He pulls at their ears and drowns them in ink
He uses a pitchfork with hellfire stink

He hands them each off to the elves of the mad
The Jolasveinar, the impish Yule Lads!
“Go Stubby, Door-Slammer, Skyr-Gobbler, Window Peeper,
Meat-Hook, and Pot Scraper, take them to the reaper!”

“Bowl-Licker, Doorway-Sniffer, Gully-Gawk, Sausage-Swiper,
It’s high time these children pay tithe to the Piper!
Spoon-Licker, Candle-Stealer, and last Sheep-Cote-Clod,
Tonight without mercy we shall spare NO rod!”

He’ll take his birch branches and with them he’ll beat
And hang their young corpses up by their small feet
He’ll swing them around and choke them with chain
He’ll wake them back up and do it again

And when he is done, he’ll send their damned souls
To do painful penance by mining hot coal
Found in Hades’ depths, to serve as a warning
Stuffed in a stocking to find Christmas morning

Absconding in darkness from which forged his heart
He growls and he cackles, his toothy grin parts
“Saint Nick and I listen! Your lies will be caught!
So Merry Christmas to all, or else, Krumpasnacht!”