Thanta, there’th a thpaith
I’d like you to replaith:
I’ll jump with glee
When all can thee
The thmile upon my faith.
“I know just what I want for a gift,
And I’ll throw such a fit if I’m stiffed!
If you fail to come through,
Who knows what I might do?”
The pathetic executive sniffed.
At Thanksgiving we pull out the stopper
On commercialized Christmastime proper:
We’ll have six months to pay,
But stay out of the way
Of the stampeding psychotic shopper!
All the creches are empty, it’s true,
And I’m waiting for Jesus anew;
Harking back to the Book,
I know now where to look:
I must find the Lord Jesus in you.
There is less than a month left, you know,
Only 21 days in a row,
Barely 500 hours
To buy yours, mine, and ours,
30,000 mere minutes to go!
If you find “Frohliche Weihnachten” odd,
“Buon Natale” and “Feliz Navidad,”
Even “Joyeux Noel”
Unfamiliar as well,
“Merry Christmas” should then get the nod.
Tell me how can an innocent Child —
Holy Infant, so tender and mild —
Be the object of scorn
From the moment He’s born:
Rejected, resented, reviled?
Is there somewhere I can go
That the Santas do not know,
A Santa-free zone
I can call my own
And not hear that “ho ho ho”?
DECK THE GALS
“Merry Christmas!” she crowed, and then smiled,
Leaving less seasoned shoppers beguiled.
“Now get out of my way
‘Cause I don’t have all day
And I must have that toy for my child!”
YULE GET OVER IT
So what if you feel disempowered
By someone who’s grimaced or glowered?
If you’re frightened to say
“Merry Christmas” today,
You’re simply a Noel coward!
MERRY CHRISTMAS, BEDFORD FALLS!
He’s known plenty of struggle and strife,
But George Bailey is blessed with a wife
And family and friends
On whom he depends:
What he has is a wonderful life.
Who but a hardhearted heathen
For some nefarious reason
Would ignore the morn
When our Savior was born
And call Christmas the “holiday season”?