Don’t wait up for Santa!

From The Moon Poem and other strange jingle-jangles

They warned me not to wait up for Santa.
They told me again and again.
They said if you wait up for Santa
No one knows what will happen then.

I said, “I will wait up for Santa.
I plan it, I wish it, I’ll do!”
They said if you wait up for Santa
No one knows what may happen to you.

I said, “Why shouldn’t I wait up for Santa?
This elf who’s invading my home?
They said, but he’s bringing you toys, spreading good cheer and joy
If we were you, we would leave it alone.

I said, “Has anyone ever viewed Santa
While making his Christmas-time rounds?
Between you and me, I hope it won’t turn out to be
As suspicious as it’s beginning to sound!”

I said, “Perhaps Santa is hideous!
His face all covered with scars!
A creature from Hell, my God, who can tell?
Or a werewolf! Or something from Mars!”

My conjectures were making them angry
Perhaps I was getting too close to the truth.
They said, “Off to bed; who put such stuff in your head?”
And they swilled their Yuletide gin and vermouth.

I lay on my cot all unsleeping
My mind in a dizzying spin
I vowed Santa I’d see; only then I’d be free
Though I be damned for my Christmas-time sin.

With my BB gun I crept to the front room
Rifle in hand, I hid by the couch
To thine own self be true – Santa, I wait for YOU!
And so I did – in a trained shooter’s crouch.

On the roof came a bumping and thumping
I knew I’d not waited in vain
And in a billowing puff of creosote dust
Out of the fireplace Santa Claus came!

Yes, t’was the merry old elf they call Santa
Whom no kids may stay up to see
In his white-trimmed red suit and shiny black boots
The last thing he expected was me.

I said, “Ok, freeze your butt, Mr. Santa!
Another move and I’ll shoot!”
Hold it right there, this gun shoots more than air
Unless you want BBs up your jolly old snoot!”

Santa froze with one foot still in mid-air
Then twisted himself ’round to see
Who had the nerve to throw him this curve
And found himself eyeball-to-eyeball with me!

I said, “So you are the great senor Santa
So you are the wondrous St. Nick
Why can’t kids stay up for you, and view what you do?
Explain, elf! And make it real quick!”

“The reasons,” said Santa, “are simple.
And simple reasons are best.
Good children, you see (and he looked hard at me)
Are growing, and so need their rest

He said, “Also, the world is a vast place.
I’ve just one night to make all my rounds
There’s no time to talk, Santa must rock
If I’m to hit every town.

“Children help me by going down early.
Then I can efficiently make all my drops.
Going to bed is no fun, but it helps get the job done
Now what’s with the gun? Are you some kind of kid cop?”

I said, “Santa, your reasons are worthless!
They sound like whiny excuses,” I said
“Now open that bag, let’s see what’s to be had!”
But I suddenly felt sleepy – and passed out instead.

I awoke in the hell I’ve grown used to
Far away at the icy North Pole
Where elves labor all day putting toys in the sleigh
Where all Santa’s little malcontents go

It’s the place they call “Santa’s Workshop.”
I call it the Christmas Gulag
Where I slave making toys for the good girls and boys
Where for my sins I must work like a dog!

So I warn you – don’t wait up for Santa!
Just have some egg nog and a piece of fruit cake.
Leave milk and cookies instead, then go straight to bed
And PRAY that you don’t stay awake!

This message sponsored by the Christmas Eve Advisory Committee, S. Claus – Chairman

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