Stories of Santa are often told.
He’s always big and his laugh is bold.
He wears black boots to trod through snow.
There is no place he would not go.
Red’s his favorite color with white fur trim.
Many dress up to look like him.
His hat matches his outfit, warm to his head.
Has a similar one for going to bed.
Cheeks are rosy. Yours would be too.
If a snowstorm, you had to ride through.
He’s always called jolly. It gives him a lift.
You’d be jolly too if always giving a gift.
Mrs. Claus has her contributions, cooking up a storm.
Santa comes home to a meal that’s warm.
Busy throughout the year, the elves don’t quit.
Always making something, like an airplane kit.
Little they may be, workers they are mighty.
Santa makes them keep the workshop tidy.
When the gifts are made, wrapped and addressed.
They’re packed on the sleigh and made sure none are missed.
The sleigh is a wonder, holds all those gifts.
Even with his weight, it still lifts.
Rudolph and gang are at the ready.
A routine flight, they make very steady.
The reindeer have magic powder, causing them to fly.
Don’t ask. No one knows why.
Sleigh and reindeer ready, Kris Kringle gets aboard.
To every kid’s home, he is headed toward.
Going down chimneys, and through the door.
Never leaves enough, kids always wanting more.
By Christmas morning, St. Nick’s work is done.
It’s time for the kids to have some fun.
All done in one night, it is quite unbelievable.
But a life without him is inconceivable.
Many dads have played him to fool their offspring.
If you’re a parent, to do, it’s the thing.
Santa Claus, St. Nick, Kris Kringle, we all love the name.
Learning he wasn’t real was totally lame.
I wrote a letter to Santa today. Here’s what I had to say.
Haven’t seen you in a while. You’ve been away.
I’d like a few things this year, along with the cheer.
For starters, an endless supply of beer.
Sexy models, I’ll take one of them.
If you make it two, I’ll sing you a hymn.
New wheels would be nice. How ‘bout a car?
Mine’s broken, and I can’t get far.
I’d like a Lambo, or maybe a Ferrari.
Remember, you’re the one who forgot me.
I’ll understand, if I don’t get these things.
But don’t be alarmed, when your doorbell rings.
Many years to me, gifts you didn’t give.
Don’t forget, we all know where you live.
I’ll wake up Christmas morning, and check for my new stuff.
Won’t even dress, I’ll do it in the buff.
If my gifts are not there, I’ll run back and forth.
Pack my bags and start heading North.
It’s not a threat Santa, just my Wish List.
If I get no gifts, I’m gonna be pissed!
I saw Santa on vacation in Florida one year. I found him once, I can find him again.
Spider Michaels
