(A re-post of a re-post. But you can't get too much culture)

My Santa you will never see upon your Christmas card,

The counterpart of Pere Noel: his brother, Pere Fouettard.

I know if I’m a good girl that his presents will be mine;

Le Pere Noel will visit me, avuncular, benign.

But if I’ve let my standards slip and been a naughty gel

There will be no Christmas gifts from saintly Pere Noel.

‘Cos if I’ve stained my copybook with morals loose and marred

I must await the stinging hand on me of Pere Fouettard.

“So come in from the cold, Monsieur.  Be seated on my bed

And reprimand this naughty girl and make my bottom red.

I do not care for chocolates, for slippers or a hanky

What I have planned is for your hand to spank me, Father. Spank me”.

So picture me on Santa’s knee as wrappings you unfurl

But make it hard, Monsieur Fouettard, I’ve been a naughty girl.