An ode to my Christmas tree:
Oh Christmas tree, how bright thee shine,
I look at you and think: 'You can't be thine';
Your baubles dangle, your lights divine,
How I wish you were there all the time.
But where are the presents, thou should guard?
Not one in sight, not even a card;
That stingy ***tard, how could he forget,
Santa Claus, this you'll regret.
Yet, Christmas is for giving, so I am told,
and I know Santa will be here, despite being old;
And I will thank him for his presents, I will,
But if he doesn't get me what I want, I'll head for the hills.
So, Christmas tree, thank you for being here,
Your memory, I'll hold dear;
But next year, if you don't mind the bind,
Please deliver what I want, if you'd be so kind.
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