An English Literature tutor has risen to the challenge in rewriting the classic Clement Clarke Moore poem to make it relevent for 2025 and Walsall.

The poem, written in 1823 in New York, is the classic Christmas card story.  Santa is depicted as landing on roof tops in a sledge pulled by flying reindeer and entering people`s homes down chimneys. 

The poem - over 200 years old - also gave us the names of the flying reindeer,  The poem was originally titled "A Visit From Saint Nicholas" but modern parlance has retitled it either as "T`was The Night Before Christmas" or "The Night Before Christmas" with mutatiions into film, song and books.  

However, it`s not  relevant to modern times because the poem depicts Santa as smoking a pipe and many areas are now designated smoke free zones.

Plus not many people have working chimneys.  Or roof tops on which a herd of flying reindeer can land.  

And the arguable ill treatment of reindeer would be a concern with their repatriation to either Cannock Chase or Dudley Zoo.

And a prosecution by the RSPCA.  

"It was to counter these issues that I decided to rewrite the poem into three versions" said Serena Fiero (pictured), a spoken word poet who runs Swift Tutors in Wolverhampton.  "I have a love of the English language, storytelling and literature and felt that the time was ripe to bring the tale kicking and screaming into the modern age, set it in Wolverhampton and give it a local dialect."

Serena, who has performed in Words of Wisdom and All You Need Is Love (and a Microphone) in Wolverhampton, wrote 3 versions of the classic poem including one set in Wolverhampton.  

"Santa`s iconic red outfit isn`t as ancient as many believe.  Before the modern era, depictions of Santa Clause and Father Christmas showed him wearing a variety of muted colours including green and brown.  Everything changed in the early 20th century when a major advertising campaign helped define his appearence.  The cheerful, red suited Santa quickly became the most recognisable version worldwide, proving how strongly marketing can shape cultural traditions that now feel timesless.   Santa Claus was never red until Coca Cola made it" said Serena.    

"Here`s the thing.  Everything you think you know about Santa comrs from a poem in 1823 by an American - Clement Clark Moore.  His Poem "A Visit From St Nicholas" introduced the reindeers, gave them their names and Santa coming down the chimney.   Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer?  He was a free colouring book that was given away by a Chicago store in 1936 and the poem was turned into a popular song - the one that we still know to this day.    

So get this - everything we know - or think we know - is either an American poem from 1823 or 1936.  It needs to be brought up to date.  The original poem is nearly 200 years old and Rudolph the Red Nosed reindeer is a colouring book nearly 100 years old.  It`s time to bring Santa kicking and screaming into the 20th century. "   

Serena famously represented Wolverhampton in Octovber for a 48 hour performance spoke a thon at the Cave Community Hub for charity in the Kingfisher Shopping Centre ibn Redditch.  She has also been instrumental in turning her evocative poems into songs using AI with musical collaborators - plus being the lead English GCSE, A Level, KS2/KS3 and 11+ tutor at Swift Tutors in Wolverhampton and helping adults and children raise their academic excellence.  

Here is Serena`s version of the Christmas classic and a proper bostin addition to any Christmas collection which celebrates local language, identity and tradition.  With playful rhyme, cosy atmoshere and a generous diose of Black Country spirit, its a festive treat for families, schools and anyone who loves the magic of dialect storytelling.  

A Visit from Saint Nick – Black Country Style

’Twas the night before Christmas, round our gaff it were quiet,
Not a sound to be ’eard, not even the wi-fi was tryin’ it.
The stockings were slung o’er the radiator rail,
In hopes old Saint Nick ’ad done next-day delivery mail.

The babbies were spark out, flat on their backs,
Dreamin’ of PlayStations, Prime deals an’ snacks.
Me missus in pyjamas, me in me old trackie top,
Both scrollin’ TikTok till our eyelids said “stop”.

When out on the drive there come one ‘ell of a bang,
Like a wheelie bin racin’ a Transit van—clang!
I shot off the sofa, near spilt me cup o’ tea,
“Woss goin’ on now? That ent right, is it?” says me.

I legged it to window, shoved curtain aside,
Moonlight on frost made the Corsa look wide.
An’ what should appear, clear as day in the glow,
But a tricked-up old sleigh an’ eight reindeer in tow.

With a little old fella, short, round an’ quick,
I thought, “Cor blimey… that’s definitely Nick.”
‘E were movin’ faster than Amazon Prime,
Shoutin’ orders like ‘e were runnin’ late for a time.

“Go on Dasher! Ow bin ya lookin’?
Dancer! Stop messin’! Prancer, quit lookin’ crook-ed!
Vixen! Behave! Comet—now then, keep up!
Cupid! Donder! Blitzen! Shift yer ruddy backside, hup!”

Up on the roof they went, bangin’ about,
Sounded like next door doin’ DIY without a clout.
Then down the chimney—no health and safety at all—
Came Nick in a flash, near took out the wall.

‘E were covered in soot, from ‘is boots to ‘is ‘at,
Like ‘e’d just crawled out a dodgy old flat.
‘Ad a sack on ‘is back full o’ gadgets an’ toys,
Looked like a market trader shoutin’ “last one, me bab!” to the boys.

‘Is eyes—how they twinkled! Proper cheeky an’ bright,
Like ‘e knew ‘e’d nicked biscuits an’ would again tonight.
Red cheeks, shiny nose, big grin ear to ear,
Like ‘e’d ‘ad a mulled wine… or three… or a beer.

Pipe in ‘is gob, smoke round ‘is head,
Smellin’ like bonfire night an’ gingerbread.
Big round belly, wobblin’ with glee,
Shakin’ like jelly in a trifle from Tesco, £3.

I couldn’t ‘elp laughin’, though I tried to be brave,
‘E winked an’ I thought, “Arr, yow seem sound, mate, behave.”
Didn’t say owt, just cracked on with the job,
Stuffin’ stockings like ‘e were paid by the lob.

Then ‘e stuck finger by ‘is nose, gave a nod like to say,
“Cheers, duck,” an’ ‘e vanished back up ‘is own way.
Jumped on ‘is sleigh, gave them reindeer a shout,
An’ off they shot quicker than rent money runs out.

But I ‘eard ‘im shout back, as ‘e flew out o’ sight,
“Merry Christmas, me bab—an’ yow all ‘ave a good night!