My children’s children heard this poem from their parents, who heard it from me when they were young. I think I can still recite it by heart. Try it on your kids – it works best done in sing-song rhythm beside a fire, with popcorn and nibbles. This is one of several fun things to share on my web page, www.TNTriCitiesHomes.com/Christmasfun.
Mrs. Santa Rides
One bright Christmas Eve, years ago, I believe,
Santa, the jolly and gay,
Was sick in his bed with a cold in his head,
And couldn’t go out in his sleigh.
Mrs. Santa came in with a comforting grin.
“Now, just rest cozy in bed.
Yes, dearie, it’s late, but don’t worry your pate;
I’ll deliver the presents,” she said.
Old Santa Claus sneezed, but showed he was pleased.
He smiled at her cherry red face.
“The children, this year, will be grateful, my dear,
that you’re willing to go in my place.”
Then, happy, she ran to the sled in the shed,
and, patting the reindeer there,
Chubby but fleet, she climbed in the seat
and started her trip through the air.
Bursting with pride, she continued to ride
until, by sure-footed hoof,
She at last settled down in the midst of a town
and nimbly stepped out on a roof.
Then she opened her pack. But alas and alack,
her list she’d completely forgot!
She had presents galore in magnificent store,
but she didn’t know who got what!
“Shall I go back?” she said, but she didn’t. Instead,
she decided that nothing mattered
except distribution. And so her solution
was to see that the gifts were well scattered.
Well, Christmas that year was a muddle, my dear!
Folks who liked puppies got kittens;
Babies looked wise wearing mufflers and ties,
while their daddies got booties and mittens!
Little Sue, bless her heart, got a baseball and cart,
while her grandfather got a bright ribbon.
And some mischievous boys who liked comics and toys
got ten volumes of history by Gibbon!
Just about dawn, all her gifts being gone,
Mrs. Santa flew home through the sky.
And she never once thought of the havoc she’d wrought.
“What a blessing to Santa am I!”
But when Christmas was past, and Santa at last
was belatedly reading his mail,
He discovered with shame that the gist of the same
was an angry and sorrowful wail.
“Dear Santy,” (I quote from one brief little note),
“Thank you for the dress with the frill,
For the dolly that talks and also walks,
but don’t bother with me next year….Bill.”
Old Santa, no dunce, comprehending at once
what had happened, ran out of the house,
Determined to fix up the terrible mix-up
caused by his blundering spouse.
With his list in hand he flew over the land,
and never a moment he rested,
Till each girl and boy had gotten the toy
which they had politely requested.
Then homeward he went, well pleased and content,
and he gave Mrs. Santa three kisses,
But the muddle she made when she offered her aid,
he tactfully kept from the missus!
And that lady, forsooth, unaware of the truth,
was happy and quite satisfied.
She was full of good cheer that lasted all year,
because of her Christmas ride.