Christmas Reindeer Rule

'Twas the Night before Christmas, has lots of rhymes.
But do you think the story really fits with our times?
We don't have a chimney, our socks are in the wash.
Dreaming of sugar plums? Oh my gosh!

And what's with a kerchief? Our dad wears no cap.
He snores all night, you call that a nap?
They tell us that Santa is coming tonight.
He'll be flying in here on a sleigh. YEAH, RIGHT!

When we were much younger we believed all that stuff,
Now that we're older we know it's a bluff.
This Christmas eve is not going as we wish.
So we sneak down the stairs to turn on the dish.

All involved in the movie, we wouldn't hear a mouse.
But all this clatter, meant a party at the neighbors house.
As we sprang to our feet, to see who was there.
We couldn't believe it was really reindeer.

We looked at each other, and gave out a squeak.
Someone is coming, oh what a sneak.
No it's just Dad going to the can.
No, really look, it's the fat man.

He stands by the table and looks through the house
And takes from his pocket a tiny gray mouse.
He says, "Ho, Ho Ho, I truly believe,
There must be a mouse in each Christmas eve."

His belt buckle shakes as he laughs, look at that.
My gosh this jolly old guy sure is fat.
He looks up, sees us, and gives a big smile.
He says, "I came to see you, let's talk a while.

"You're grown up kids that don't believe
That Santa Claus comes on each Christmas eve.
You let your minds be filled with doubt.
It's simple, without me the fun is left out.

"I remember the time you both sat on my knee
Smiles on your faces, eyes sparkling with glee.
Don't you remember the thrill you felt then?
With a little belief you can feel it again.

He turns as he says, "Will you please come out here?
And there on the driveway stood eight tough reindeer.
They all nod to us and then snort in chorus,
"Who's these cool dudes now standing before us?"

As the big burley guy crawls into his sleigh.
We're both thinking, there ain't no way!
He says, "It's my new team, a real with-it crew.
I'll let HP give their names to you."

"Here's E-mail and Smiley, Micro Soft and Charley,
I'm HP, there's Copy, Surfin' and Banner.
The big guy is Santa, the North Pole's his home,
We're with him all year, we hang out in Nome."

Then they take off and fly to the roof
Tap a short rap and give a "high hoof."
All turn and shout, "Tonight reindeers rule.
The eight of us wish you a crazy cool Yule."

Then Santa shouts, "It's true some things change.
But believe in the basics." As he speeds out of range.
This Story dear folks, is so out of sight.
"Merry Christmas to all,
and to all a Good-Night!"

Politically Correct
Christmas Poem


'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he'd never had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passé;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy

Peace on Earth."

Very Good! Thanks. Good afternoon to the gang

The Night Before Christmas


T'was the night before Christmas,
He lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house,
Made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney,
With presents to give,
And to see just who,
In this home did live.

I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.

No stocking by the mantle,
Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures,
Of far distant lands.

With medals and badges,
Awards of all kinds,
A sober thought,
Came through my mind.

For this house was different,
It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier,
Once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping,
Silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor,
In this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured,
An American soldier.

Was this the hero,
Of whom I'd just read?,
Curled up on a poncho,
The floor for a bed?

I realized the families,
That I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers,
Who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world,
The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate,
A bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom,
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers,
Like the one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder,
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas eve,
In a land far from home.

The very thought brought,
A tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees,
And started to cry.

The soldier awakened,
And I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry,
This life is my choice.

I fight for freedom,
I don't ask for more,
My life is my god,
My country, my corps."

The soldier rolled over,
And drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still,
And we both shivered,
From the cold night's chill.

I didn't want to leave,
On that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honour,
So willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over,
With a voice, soft and pure,
Whispered, "carry on Santa,
It's Christmas day, all is secure."

One look at my watch,
And I knew he was right,
"Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night."

This poem was written by a peace keeping soldier
stationed overseas.