‘Twas the night before Božić and all through the kuća,
The air smelled of spicy sarma and rakija vruća.
By the dimljak the šlapice were hung kinda krivo,
In hopes that Sveti Nikola would soon bring some pivo.
Tata was in his soba and was snoring pretty hard,
Tired from stealing the drvo from our susjed’s backyard.
Mama was in the podrum cooking like a budala,
She was making some bakalar and rum-filled baklava.
When out on the lawn there arose such a galama,
Tata yelled from his soba, “Pa što je to s vama?!”
There was a kucanje on the front vrata with such a loud barrage,
I yelled through the prozor, “This is a Croatian house, come in through the garage!”
‘And standing in the garaža right next to my car,
Was my drunk Tetak Joze, coming home from the bar.
“Ajde, odi spavat,” I told him with might,
Don’t pokvarit my chances of seeing Sveti Nikola tonight.
About two sati later, I heard a buka downstairs,
So, I jumped from my krevet to see who was there.
Standing by the drvo and eating some leftover pizza,
Was good ol’ Sveti Nikola reeking of homemade šljivovica!
He was all dressed in crveno and as big as an ox,
He wore some smeđe opanke, along with bijele socks.
Smelling like a cigan that’s been drinking for days,
He wasn’t what I expected, I was actually amazed.
“Pa kako mrzim ovaj posao,” he said,
Chugging some šljiva, and turning bright red.
He put the presents under the drvo, while whistling a Božić beat,
They were wrapped up kinda sloppy with paper bags from 49th Street.
A single slice of pršut for me, and 12 kese of Vegeta for my brother,
3 pairs of Slavonske kobasice for my father, and turska kava for my mother.
This Croatian Santa was pokvaren – he was nothing like the fable,
I should have known it when he swiped my pack of cigarete from the table.
I yelled, “Hey!,” as Sveti Nikola turned around from afar,
Throwing his opanka at me, as if it were a ninja star.
The look in his eyes was nothing but fright,
He said, “Asti Gospe!” and dashed out of sight.
Up through the dimnjak I heard a loud shriek,
Sveti Nikola had just prdnuo like some wild bik.
He got in his kaput, made for hladne zime,
And he yelled at his jelene, ime po ime.
“Naprijed Marko i Darko, Petar i Ante,”
“Ajde Josip i Vinko, Ivo i Mate.”
And then he yelled, “Ajdemo brzo, moramo poč,”
“Sretan Božić svima, i svima laku noć!”
-----Editor: Zlatko Stipic.
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