The wood so softly singing
In a language strange to hear
And the song it sings will find you
As the twilight draws you near



25 minute podcast featuring Santa as 'The Shaman' 
(an antidote to over-commercialised 'Christmas' cheer):



Graunt that no Hobgoblins fright me
No hungrie devils rise up and bite me;
No Urchins, Elves or drunkards Ghoasts
Shove me against walles or posts.
O graunt that I may no black thing touch.
Though many men love to meet such.

John Day