Holiday Greetings (hic)
(written some years ago for my co-workers
inserting all first and last names)
‘Twas the day before Christmas
And all through the four regions
Not a field rep was stirring.
All work was out of season.
You could see the Rams eat ivy.
Little foxies snuggling in their den
And the spider’s Webb glistening.
A lone Bowman stalking through the glen.
Up high in the sky
The Geese (hic) sped by,
Flying ‘Edwards south to Florida Keys.
And down on the slopes
The boys ski by
Passing buckets of Sapp from maple trees.
The Robin had long since left and flown south.
The fishing boats were rocking idly in the bay.
There Hadley (hic) hardly was a soul seen out and about.
The horses in the barn were eating their Fay (hic) hay.
Round the table decorated red
With Poindexters, sweet Williams and Simms,
All the children happily were fed
On Pam (hic) hamburgers, listening to hymns,
Anticipating imagined joys
While waiting patiently for their Foy (hic) toys.
In the fireplace the embers were crackling,
Older children dancing to tunes of Scarborough Fair.
By the chimney the Stocktons were hanging,
Some of the folks dancing in twos as loving pairs.
There was Carolyn at ev’ry house
As folks went cheerfully about
Drinking sherry and Weinsapp to toast.
A Happy New Year they noisily would shout.
There appeared from a distance quite far
A sleigh with eight little reindeer too,
Flying over the gravel (hic) corry (hic) quarry
Past Mason’s and Vanmeter’s it flew.
Down Gregory lane it came
With a great clatter and din
Right over the Yates (hic) gates it came.
Some thought it was just the wind.
Santa hopped out all dressed up
In a Velda red suit.
Snow Bells flopped up like golden cups
From each shiny black boot.
“So very fancy! ”,
“A legendary myth! ”
“It’s not true.”,
..............Chimed in Sue.
Would I lie?
Just ask Y.
Oh, and his nose was so bright,
as Red as a cherry.
It made such a wondrous sight
And ev’ry one Mary.
Until best of all,
Besides his visit Byas all,
From his face did fall,
“Surprise to us all”, said Duvall.
A beard so long and gray white,
The longest I’ve ever seen
Of anyone that was yet born.
Imagine that? Pat Osborn.
Annette (hic) yet that face I’d seen before.
That smile was familiar I swore.
Why, the longest
In all the wide west.
“To say the least, ”
“A Mary Christmas, ” he did cry
With laughter shining in his eyes,
................“To Betty and Debbie,
..................Not to mention Jeri,
..................To Kathy and Dorothy,
..................To Rhonda and Mona,
..................To Roxanne and Joanna,
..................To Brenda and Cynthia.
And to all the rest of ya.
To all a Happy New Year too.
From your KFP and Guess who? ”
But then away he speedily sped
Alaughing “Ho, Ho, Ho” in his sled.
..................“Ben a fine year! ”
............................We could all hear.
As over the Walkers and past the Robertson’s he did soar,
And leaving behind him all kinds of gifts of fun on the floor.
Then suddenly I knew.
.................“Still can’t be true, ”
..................Said the other Sue.
‘Twas Ronald now I knew.
(Hic) B J G
Ben Gieske's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Holiday Greetings (hic) by Ben Gieske )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe