Inside my book I found an old newspaper clipping with this parody of the poem. It’s from a book called A Kiwi Night before Christmas by Yvonne Morrison.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all round the bach Not a possum was stirring; not one we could catch.
We'd left on the table a meat pie and beer,
In hopes that Santa Claus soon would be here.
We children were snuggled up in our bunk beds,
While dreams of pavlova danced in our heads;
And Mum in her nightie, and Dad in his shorts,
Had just settled down to watch TV Sports,
When outside the bach such a hoo-ha arose,
I woke up at once from my wonderful doze.
I ran straight to the sliding door, looking about,
Jumped out on the deck, and let out a shout!
The fairy lights Dad had strung up round the door
Let me see everything, down to the shore.
And what did I see, when I took a peep?
But a miniature tractor and eight tiny sheep,
With a little old driver, his dog on his knee.
I knew at once who this joker might be.
He patted the dog, and in a voice not unkind,
cried, "Good on ya, boy! Now, GIT IN BEHIND!
"Now, Flossy! now, Fluffy! now, Shaun and Shane!
On, Bossy! on, Buffy! on, Jason and Wayne!
Up that red tree, to the top of the bach!
But mind you don't trample the vegetable patch."
So up to the roof those sheep quickly flew,
With the tractor of toys, Santa and his dog too.
As my sister awoke and I turned around,
In through the window he came with a bound.
He wore a black singlet and little white shorts,
And stuck on his feet were gumboots, of course;
A sackful of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a postie just opening his pack.
His eyes -- bright as paua shell -- oh, how they twinkled!
Like an old tuatara, his skin was all wrinkled!
He had a wide face and round, fat tummy,
That looked like he'd eaten lots that was yummy.
He spoke not a word, but got down on one knee,
And placed a cricket set under the tree,
A present for Sis, one for Dad, one for Mum,
Then he turned and he winked and he held up his thumb;
He jumped on his tractor, to his dog gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, as fast as a missile.
I called out "Thanks," as he flew past the gate.
He called back: "Kia ora to all, and good on ya, mate!"
There are a lot of parodies of this poem all over the internet.