He hung his stocking from the bar,
Despite the ref’s objections.
The shots rained in from near and far,
Pile-drivers and deflections.
But no, he dived to left and right –
Was Fortune ever kinder?
Upon that magic Christmas night,
The keeper played a blinder.
Once he thought he heard some hooves
Land on the goal behind him.
Was Santa searching all the rooves?*
The keeper prayed he’d find him.
And, at the final whistle, he
Searched for his Christmas treat,
And from the stocking, with great glee,
He pulled out a clean sheet.