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.