Thursday, December 26, 2013
Clement Clarke Moore wrote the poem “Twas the Night Before Christmas” in 1822. With Christmas morning in your rearview mirror, here’s my version. A “What If” take, such as What if Santa left one kid in all the world nothing but clothes under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning and this event was then memorialized in a poem?
Here goes . . .
Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house.
I’m beginning to think this Santa’s a louse.
The stockings were scattered and torn, gifts thrown everywhere.
And me with my presents of dress socks, a plaid sweater and new underwear.
We kids were all amped up on the Dew and too much candy
And everyone but me thought Christmas was just dandy . . .
Because you see I didn’t ask for any of these things
I asked for a baseball glove a GI Joe, and not mittens with strings.
So I sat there all glum and sulked among the clatter
I wanted one more chance to tell Santa what was the matter
Just give me one chance and I’d give a swift kick
Right to the seat of the pants of that idiot St. Nick
He brought my sisters a doll and an Easy Bake Oven
And my brother a Big Wheel but for me I got nothin . . .
Just clothes and galoshes and a pair of cuff links
Yeah I was pretty certain, this Christmas stuff stinks
My idiot siblings didn’t have the first clue
As to why on this Christmas I was feeling so blue
So I went on to bed and started counting the days
I’ll get my revenge, oh yes Santa will pay
Looking out my window at the new fallen snow
I hear a commotion coming from the yard far below
And what do I see that makes me take pause
Why those idiot reindeer and that #$@%! Santa Claus
With baseball bat in hand I sprang from my bed
I’ll give Santa a good one right upside the head
And Dasher and Dancer, and Prancer and Vixen
I’ll swing for the fence and I don’t plan on missin
I yelled, “What the heck were you thinking?” as I ran outside
“You promised me toys, and Santa, you lied”
These mittens are no good and these cuff links are rotten
And who cares if my underwear is 100 percent cotton?
This little old man, this oversized elf
Had a sad look in his eyes that said I blame myself
With new labor laws and the elves out on strike
Plus Rudolph got sick, you don’t know what it’s like
Then Mrs. Claus who is usually quite sweet
Decided this Christmas we will no longer eat meat
I decided right then amidst my misery
That I’d leave nothing but clothes under your Christmas tree
To read all of these lists from the world’s girls and boys
Asking for nothing but candy and toys
Then it hit me like the itch at the end of my nose
It’d be nice to give one kid nothing but clothes
And that’s you my good friend I chose you to receive
The pants and shirts with the extra-long sleeves
It’s you who got mittens and a new pair of socks
While others got toys and presents that rock
So take that Santa said and he flipped me the bird
And he jumped in his sled without nary a word
He looked at me with this sardonic glint in his eye
That said I better watch out, I better not cry
He brought out his whip and gave it a crack
And away they all flew with jingle bells on their backs
And I heard him exclaim as he doffed his red lid
Enjoy the clothes . . . and Merry Christmas kid ...
I never did like that stupid poem anyway.
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