What Ho! - Poem by John Stetson
It’s Christmas. I’m late! 12/29/04
What Ho! It’s Christmas and time to regale.
We gather together with gifts from the Sale!
We traverse afar. We've brought our own star.
We’re bulging, indulging, o’erloading the car.
We’re boxing the compass and gifts from the sail.
We’re loading foreboding both byway and mail.
You can never go home, be it fair banks or gnome.
And we lumber ‘gainst slumber. On Brogan! On Brougham!
We slog through the muck, hurling Humbug! and Yuck!
And anxiously wait on each courier and truck.
We sing of our drives, of Currier & Ives,
While Heaven… Forfend! currency drains from our lives.
And what of the child, both froward and fair?
We crow of their exploits and tousle their hair.
We tick off their trophies, these Solomen and Sophies,
And wryly recounting we boast of the fees.
But what of the child, who’s birthday we fete?
Is he reason or season, as we o’erfill our plate?
We’ll hedge all our bets, but lest we forget,
The Christ Child awaits us… He’s waiting there yet.
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