On Christmas Eve, I couldn’t sleep,
So I thought it wouldn’t harm to peep.
I saw Santa, on the settee,
Sitting on my mother’s knee!
But I knew it would be bad
If I mentioned it to Dad.
I’d say nothing; I’d act dumb
And so, that way, I might keep Mum.
But other thoughts entered my head:
If I told, they’d both go red
And Mum and Dad would get a divorce
And Santa would marry Mum, of course.
So I’ll tell Dad and they will split
And that will be the end of it:
There’ll be more presents by my bed
If Santa were my Dad instead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ha Ha Ha Ha! A totally humorous poem, love it a lot! You do have a way with words, and I thoroughly enjoy them in every poem I read of yours. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn