‘Twas the 7th of December, and all through the night,
We eagerly watched for the Farmers’ Festival of Lights.
The streets of North Durham rang in celebration,
As the streets lined with folk spanning three generations.
The children were nestled all snug in their coats,
Awaiting the parade of holiday floats.
Carols rang out and we all stopped to listen,
As more guests arrived for this yearly tradition.
Out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
As neighbours and families filled the crisp night with chatter.
From driveways and windows, filling each porch,
Excitement and joy all around Durham-North.
Then we spotted the spark of the first Christmas light:
The parade had begun with an angel in white!
One after another the tractors they came,
And we whistled and shouted and called them by name.
To Tyrone, to Eniskillen, to Haydon and Enfield,
Came snowmen and shepherds, Christmas trees on wheels.
The Grinch from Whoville! Graceful horses with bells!
Candy-canes, mangers and blithe, waving elves!
And there in the twinkling, amidst all the floats
Came the prancing and pawing of antler-clad goats.
Then, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a jolly St. Nick in a twinkling John Deere!
He waved from his sleigh, then rolled off down the street,
And we turned to our houses, intent on Christmas sweets.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight:
“Happy Christmas to all, and to Durham, good night!”
