‘Twas the poem for Christmas and all through the stanzas
Were the megawatt charms of six billion Tony Danzas.
There were chestnuts a-roasting and fires a-open,
Santa was Clausing and the Pope was a-popin’.
The eight tiny reindeer, including Donder and Blitzen
Enjoyed dinner on Santa, no check needed splitzen.
And sugar plums danced in the heads of the young,
Rhythmic food dreams that confounded even Karl Jung.
Nice children had no fear of being inspected
But Gregor Samsa awoke to find himself insected.
An airborne sleigh was driven by old Kris Kringle
With dollies and trains and an anteater for Aram Fingal.
And snow everywhere was falling to Earth,
Except in San Tropez, Chile, Johannesburg and Perth.
Jesus returned, patting everyone’s backs
With a novelty t-shirt that said, “Frankincense Relax.”
The Nutcracker Suite employed many a ballerina,
Whilst Bea Arthur was employed by Mos Eisley Cantina.
Frosty found magic in an old silk hat,
And Louis Armstrong found magic in skibbity-scat.
And Santa spoke up, imploring all to be merry
Being nice is the nicest; it’s hip to be squarey.
And I heard him exclaim from his lips, tongue and jaw,
“Fa la la la la la la la la.”