A Few Poems for the Holidays
Saint Nick’s Christmas Excess
ate so much roast goose he got sick,
thus was forced to belay
that night’s ride in his sleigh,
rushed the gifts all to FedEx. How slick.
Next Christmas, when faced with a chimney,
hr muttered, “I will not be able to shimmy
down that narrow slot,
with a fire so hot.
I’ll go in the front door, by Jiminey.”
What Happens Christmas Night
Do you wonder how, in just one night,
Saint Nick can make such a long flight?
He sends some gifts by mail,
and some others by rail,
which makes his sleigh load quite light.
I’ve noticed that Saint Nick’s a bit
too big around for him to fit
inside our chimney, Christmas night
the struggle must be quite a sight.
Perhaps he oils his nice red suit
all over so that he can shoot
right down the chimney. Then you’ll see
he‘ll cut his hand and sprain his knee.
I guess that all those aches and pains
will hurt so much that he’ll complain
that getting down was such a chore
he’s going to leave us by the door!
Winter wonderland of woe
all we have is snow and snow.
Piles and piles of slushy glop,
mushy, wet and nasty slop.
Wets my socks and wets my shoes
numbs my toes and shorts my fuse.
Watch it snow and wish for Spring,
no more snow and shoveling.