Twas the Day after Christmas

Twas the day after Christmas, a cold blustery day
When tired old Santa climbed out of his sleigh
Unhooked his eight reindeer , and off they did run
To flee from the cold and follow the sun.

Come back here you rogues, screamed the old gent
But they snorted and farted and off then they went.
Curses, screamed Santa, Get back to the stable
I'll chase you and catch you ... if only I'm able.

Even dear Rudoph was fleeing his master
Who tried to chase him, but Rudoph was faster.
So Santa decided to return to his hut
But he slid on the ice, and injured his butt.

He called for the elves, but they didn't answer,
He then called for Donder, Blitzen and Prancer,
He called for Dasher, Vixen and Cupid
But not Comet or Dancer who he thought were too stupid

He decided to get up and go park his sleigh
But just then he saw it whizzing away.
Santa mumbled and cursed and got to his feet
And fumbled for cookies or something to eat.

The cookies that children had left for St. Nick
Tasted stale and rancid, but he ate them up quick.
Then he dragged himself slowly into his hut
And fell fast asleep with his eyes tightly shut.

He slept for a week to rest his old bones
And he snored and he mumbled and the room filled with groans.
Then he soaked in his tub and swallowed his pills
And tried to forget his troubles and ills.

His clothes were all covered with ashes and soot
That he got in a chimney, plus a burn on his foot.
Then he put on his shorts and a fancy tee-shirt
And stepped into flip-flops ‘cause his burned foot still hurt.

He chartered a plane and flew to L.A.
Bought a new condo, where he lives to this day.

* * * *

When Christmas arrives this coming new year,
Don't even worry...you've nothing to fear.
Santa still sends gifts to your girls and boys,
All little children will still get their toys.

All they must do is stay in the house,
Turn on the computer and pick up the mouse,
Click on the links and then on their choices
And Santa will hear all their childish voices.

Their folks will save money when getting a tree
Thanks to virtual reality.
And thanks once again, to dear old St. Nick
Who is clever and crafty and knows every trick
To make every Christmas happy and bright
And to accomplish his miracles in one single night.

So, kids, don't send letters to the North Pole
"Cause Global Warming, we've been told
Will soon make the Pole disappear
And besides, Old St. Nick, now is living here..

Send all your letters to Sunny L.A.
On its close sunny beaches, there Santa does play
He snorkles and swims and checks out bikinis
And when no one is looking, he swills down martinis.

Whatever you do, Santa, it's quite all right.
Merry Christmas to you, and to you, a good night!!

Writ by me on December 24, 2007 Chrismas Eve

Sylvia Honig
Nassau, New York