CHRISTMAS NIGHTGosh, look at the house, No one could get through it Not even a mouse. There's tags, seals, and wrappings Knee high on the floor, Strung out, from the front room To the back kitchen door. The noise and the din, from The children at play, With cars, trains and scooters Would turn your hair gray. From gorging on dinner Dad's groaning with pain, While Mom's worn, and tired From bustle and strain. The mess must be mastered As soon as she's able, Dirty dishes to wash On the dining room table. There's bones form the chicken And seeds from the dates, There's orange peel and bread crusts Piled on dirty plates. The Christmas tree droops Dropping needles galore, Strings of popcorn and tinsel Hang down on the floor. The kids creep behind it In guns battle fight, To ambush some rustler Who rides through the night. We dodge missiles and arrows Shot out by the boys, Our feet crunch on nutshells We fall over toys. The oldsters are tired The youngsters are gay, With excitement of gifts Of a big Christmas Day. We struggle to get them All tucked in their beds, While vision of toys and dolls Dance in their heads. Then Dad in pajamas And Mom in night gown, Glad to crawl 'neath the covers Lay their weary heads down. Everyone of us tired Tho full of good cheer, But thankful that Christmas Just comes, once a year. © Mabel Boyd Royal-Steen Christmas, 1947 |