CHRISTMAS AT EIGHT

CHRISTMAS AT EIGHT


'Twas the day before Christmas
In a cold, busy city
People weren't laughing
Oh, what a pity;
Folks out of work
Runny noses and such
A blizzard was coming
And other bad luck.

No gifts were wrapped
To lay 'neath our tree
All decorated brightly
For Santa and me;
I laid on my bed
And read an old book
Until supper time
When our food was cooked.

No stars lit the sky
For Santa to see
And I worried all night
Where he might be;
I tried to sing carols
But my throat was too sore
Cold drafts found their way
On my bedroom floor.

Morning soon came
And with it relief
But that was replaced
By my own grief;
For my stocking was empty
Just a note tucked inside:
"Santa's sorry to say
He's too sick to ride."

It appeared my family
Might still be asleep
So I looked in their rooms
With nary a peep;
Dad was coughing
Mum had thrown up
In the middle the baby
Curled up like a pup.

I emptied my stocking
To find a new note
"Go back to bed
And I'll be about;
I hope what I have
Doesn't find you
But you should know
Santa has the swine flu."

So I went back to sleep
When I awoke again
The clock said it was
Quarter past ten;
I hurried downstairs
Just as Mum did too
I already knew that
She had the swine flu.

But Santa had come!
And I tore open my things
A new blue bike
A toy plane with wings!
I played all day long
While they just slept
And then I dreamed
I was all grown up.

That memory lingers
Now I'm a man
And tho it was awful
It all had a plan;
Because on that Christmas
When I was just eight
I learned how Santa
Had found his soul mate.