Dear All of My Fine Family-
Many Thanks to one and all fer makin this Christmas such a jolly one. I was particularly touched by the quantity and impressive proyce tags on my own pairsonal gifts from all of ye.
Ta Bill, who gave me a wee knoyf a' genuine silver, God bless ye, man. It'll make cuttin me way out of the hedge when I miss that hard low turn out of Shannon the easier.
(Naver moind that it'll take me above nine hours ta do it, the thing being about the soyze of a flea's front leg and all.)
Ta me brather Laurence, the foine man, thanks fer the naketie. It's a shade a red, I believe.
To me dare Sister Kathleen, thanks fer the Brilla pad. It's a thotfell gift.
(Though I have te confess: I've seemed ta've misplaced it in me lang white baird, alang with one of my woife's loovely braised duck legs. )
Te me brather Christopher, ye warthless skinflint, thanks fer stayin' home and hoardin' yer gold, ye great chayp old moyzair.
(I pray yer starvin' woife and little bye enjoyed their Knights a' Columbus charity dinner.)
Te ar old Dad, we missed ye.
I hope yer teeth are feeling better.
It's tha tooth curse we have on us, the Irish, ever since Aoin Gylbregghact bit Aetherloch Brynwaggerlach in the aorse on the battlefield at Aoerigarrach.
Much love te ye all,
Ho Ho Ho!
Santa.
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