With Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

 

Twas the day after Christmas and all through the land

Not a creature was stirring, except the Mall Band

The shoppers were out, by two and three,

Snatching up deals, hoping for free.

 

The children were strung out, from sugar galore

While the wrappings and boxes still littered the floor

And Mamma had flown with her “crew” to the mall

While I raked the last leaves, from chill winter’s fall

 

When out of the house came a shattering noise

Of shrieking girls, and stumblefoot boys

Away to the front door I ran to see

The source of the clatter, shouting and glee

There by the light of the new Hi-def TV

Danced the boys and girls, playing their Wii

With a swing and a miss, and a swing and a hit

I wondered how long before they tired of it

Last year the gifts that just had to be had

Were “Jingo the Dog” and “Eeyore” so sad

And next year I wonder what will I buy

That will be long forgotten, long before July

 

I returned to my lawn and pile of leaves

Glanced up at the roof and noticed that the eaves

Held clusters of color just caught in the gutter

“Oh, what the Hell, why do I bother”, I mutter.

 

Across the street sits that old codger Bob

Billowing forth blue smoke from his trusty corn cob

He glances at me with his eyes all alight

As he clasps in his teeth that smelly old pipe

“Ain’t ya glad that you work, from sun up to sun down

To provide for those kids and wife whose in town

So that they can suck up the sweat from your brow

While you labor away, even now”

“I know that you love ‘em, but would it be so hard

If they came to help you out in the yard

And instead of running the electric bill higher

They came out and trimmed down that snagglewood briar”

 

His brow how it wrinkled, his smile was so merry

I knew that I needed to be very wary

His mean little mouth set in a sneer

As he reached in the cooler for yet another beer

 

The bowl of his pipe glowed bright in his lips

As from his mouth his sarcasm drips

“There they play and here you work

My but you are really a jerk”

 

“To let them run over you, feet and head

My boy, you certainly must be seeing red.

Your wife off spending, your kids at play

And you already working away the day”

I spoke not a word, but went straight back to work

For I was not one to ever shirk

My duties and tasks, so willingly bound

To my promise and commitment made and sound

 

On bended knee some years ago

One Christmas eve, out in the snow

In front of my darling’s father’s house

Old Bob’s, that mean spirited louse.

 

Copyright © 2011 - Marty Vandermolen - All Rights Reserved