Santa Scrooge
(an oldie "light" sonnet)
The Santa that I know is not so nice.
If there's a gift I tell him that I'd like,
he only will complain about the price,
and when December comes, he goes on strike!
For Santa is no sweet and jolly gent.
For instance, when it's time to do the tree,
he hates to have to bring it from the basement;
I trim it then without the grumble-bee.
It hurts my back to put up outside lights,
But I don't bother my "dear" Claus for that.
And so our house stands naked through the nights
of Christmas time ‘cause Santa is a rat!
My Santa Baby's great at subterfuge.
So ho, ho, ho for me. I married Scrooge!
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