The parties are ending
The carols are sung
The reindeer are wending
The stockings are hung
The evening is waning
The cider is hot
Somewhere they’re complaining
In our house we’re not
If a nutcracker
Never, ever cracks a nut
Does it still exist?
It cannot be the case that we’re
Already in December, here.
That’s just not possible. I mean,
It’s barely twenty-seventeen!
I know it’s not that late, because
My New Year’s Resolution was
To get my prep done in advance
And so avoid the frantic dance
Of shopping/wrapping Christmas Eve
That’s been my drill, and I believe
That this year I’ll succeed. You scoff,
But trust me, I can pull this off.
I’m going to rock this Christmas scene!
I’ll start right after Halloween.
It’s Christmas concert time! Oh, joy!
A time when every girl and boy
Shangaied into a junior choir
Raises voice on high–no, higher–
In a shrill cacophony
Of avarice for you and me:
You’d best not cry or pout, they’ll shriek
(About 400 times a week)
‘Cause Santa’s watching, and he’s pissed!
(I paraphrase, but that’s the gist.)
Their choir teachers don’t have time
To coax a melody sublime
From tense preadolescent throats,
But even if they bleat like goats
Or stand and blink instead of singing,
Parents hear the welkin ringing
With the “notes” their children bellow,
Each one louder than the fellow
Next to them, in their own key,
And know, no sound could sweeter be.
This December I confess
I’m feeling it a little less
Than back when kids were underfoot;
Then, up with me they would not put
Were I to channel Scrooge or Grinch.
With Santa coming, it’s a cinch
That their enthusiasm would
Infect me like the flu (that’s good).
So, what to do? Innoculation
Might screw up a good vacation,
Though if I expose myself
To children like a creepy elf
I could spend Christmas Eve in chains
Like Jacob Marley, who explains
In Dickens’ classic, what you do
In life, in death envelops you.
With that in mind, my course is clear:
Paste on a grin, pretend good cheer,
And hope the faking makes it so!
Just twenty shopping days to go…
“Christmas spirit” proves elusive
When your leadership’s abusive
And a national disgrace,
But paste a smile on your face
And do your part to heal the rift
‘Twixt Us and Them. Make that your gift
To everyone, yourself included.
Don’t forget, your pain is rooted
In your love for what could be
And what will be again. You’ll see.
Okay, the president’s an ass.
Said Solomon, This, too, shall pass.
The U.S.A. is not yet wrecked
So let its holly halls be decked
With “Happy Holidays” in lights!
(And then read Donald Trump his rights.)
Christmas concerts warm the heart.
If only practice didn’t start
So soon! Perhaps I’m getting old,
But all these snow songs make me cold!