SANTA CLAUS'S FATTER BROTHER

 Santa Claus's fatter brother doesn't live in snow and ice.
He prefers much hotter weather, he says, "Africa is nice.
Mexico is rather toasty, India is curry hot.
Stay and shiver where it's frosty? Oh, how I'd enjoy that - not!"

 One lives at the Pole, one at the Equator.
One is rather fat, the other's even fatter.
Who says, "Oh, no, I don't like the frost and snow"?
The bigger fatter brother of Santa Claus.

 Santa Claus's fatter brother doesn't soar upon a sleigh.
He prefers to watch the birds, where giraffe and zebra play.
He goes swimming with the hippos, drinks out of a coconut.
Eats an orange, plants the pips, sees the seedlings sprouting up.
 
But when late December looms, Santa's brother makes a call.
"Hullo, Santa! Same as usual? Yes, I've presents for them all.
You do both ends, I do middle. You take cold, I'll take warm.
Yes, we'll meet as dawn comes up. Wrap up well, look out for storms."

 Santa Claus's fatter brother opens up his workroom door.
Turbanned djinns and Billy Blins are wrapping parcels on the floor.
"Almost finished? Well done, lads. Not a minute left to spare."
Into sacks the parcels fly, whizzing safely through the air.

Santa Claus's fatter brother piles the bags in his canoe,
Harnesses the seven dolphins, up they fly into the blue.
Over desert and rainforest, over Amazon and Nile,
Over palms and reefs of coral, through the night's black velvet miles.

Landing at each place where children sleep and dream and hope to get.
Landing at each place where parents try their best and love and fret.
In and out of many houses, right from twilight to cockcrowing,
Santa Claus's fatter brother keeps the family business going.