Christmas Crime.

A true story…

My Christmas story differs from everyone’s I know

It doesn’t talk of carols or sliding angels in the snow.

Santa never loved me, never thought that I was nice

Ever since that naughty thing on a darkened winters night.

It started late one festive eve, when the adults were asleep

I tiptoed to the cookies, with a quiet sneaking creep

I swooped them in my little hands and before it was too late

With a grumble of the belly, I ate the whole darn plate!

But this tale doesn’t end with a belly full of sweets

Another year went passing by and with guilt I left more treats

Just to show our dear ol’ Santa that I wasn’t all that bad

That I hadn’t left him hungry and feeling boiling mad

So on that Christmas morning, I scurried down to see

That he had eaten all the cookies but left no presents by the tree.


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