You try to tell me Christmas
Should boast a barbeque,
A frolic on the beach and a bright and sunny hue.
You say it’s in the summer
And you sit there in the sun:
As far as Christmases do go
It sounds like lots of fun.
But I will say that Christmas
Is crisp and cold and white:
From the fall of the first snowflake to the day Santa takes flight.
It is doubtless in the winter
And nothing you can say
Will convince me to celebrate
In any other way!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem