A Repugnant Christmas
Twas the week before Christmas,
and all through the house,
not a value was stirring,
not even a mouse,
loot socks were hung by the coalfire with care,
in hopes that saint nick soon will be fair,
the traitor bird mocked at the fair weather lie,
while the mouse told the story of green apple pie,
on dancer not prancer screamed the old nasty pinch,
who is a class, a class with no flinch,
one that is owned, that you put in your cinch,
I'll place a crumb here,
then I'll take you all there,
hey dear, do you have a few bills at your near,
for my go along luck, for my last can of beer,
because as you know,
my mouse traps are deer,
and I am the one who scares it all near,
if I give it to who,
they'll just want to cheer.
Copyright © Greg Jenkins | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment