A Christmas Carol
Christmas time is here by golly.
Disapproval would be folly.
Deck the halls with hunks of Holly.
Fill the cup and don't say "when".
Kill the tukeys, ducks, and chickens.
Mix the punch, drag out the Dickens.
Even though the prospect sickens
Brother! Here we go again.
On Christmas Day you can't get sore.
Your fellow man you must adore.
There's time to rob him all the more
the other three hundred and sixty-four.
Relations sparing no expense will
send some useless old utensil,
or a matching pen and pencil.
"Just the thing I need. How nice."
It doesn't matter how sincere it is
nor how heart felt the spirit.
Sentiment will not endear it.
What's important is the price.
Hark! The Herald-Tribune sings.
Advertising wonderous things.
God Rest Ye Merry Merchants
May ye make the Yultide pay.
Angels we have heard, on high
tell us to go out and buy!
So let the rock of sleigh bells jingle
hail our dear old friend, Kris Kringle.
Driving his reindeer across the sky.
Don't stand underneath when they fly by.