Mistletoe Madness Poem by James Walter Orr

A girl sits under the mistletoe
With an angelic look on her face.
She says she intends to enjoy the night,
And she's come to the very right place.

She receives a kiss on those ruby lips
'Till they sizzle and hiss with steam,
And the mistletoe bursts into flame,
While the world changes into a dream.

The sparks rain down from the mistletoe,
And the fire alarms start in to wail,
The heat pops all of the windows out,
In a super-charged kind of spell.

The girls march by in a single file,
And each one receives a big kiss:
Maidens and matrons and old maids, all;
With each Mrs. and Ms. and Miss.

Like a river of lava the flag-stones boil,
And the air becomes laden with ash.
From a mountain village that sits afar,
Comes a column of girls in a dash.

Men-folk are trying, the blaze to contain,
As the birds have to dropp from the sky.
Maidens are hopping from foot to foot,
So each fine foot will fail to fry.

Snow comes on the wings of a wintry storm,
To restore some sense of balance.
The electrons spin in each molecule,
To regain the proper valence.

As Easy walked over the sizzling stones,
With a big smile covering his face,
He thought, 'Wow! , these village girls are hot,
And returned to his hidden place.'