| There
once was a man named King Daryl of Dread,
The most awful of Kings, or so it's been
said.
One day he chanced to look down from his castle,
Hoping to find some subject to hassle.
But the people were happy, they worked with a smile.
They sang while they worked, and they
hummed all the while.
"What's going on? I demand to be told!"
The angry King said. "Why are they so
bold?"
The
Chancellor answered (the King's First assistant)
"The people, dear Sire, are extra persistent
In baking up cookies and gingerbread houses.
Just look at the children, the men and
their spouses."
"Are
they doing this . . ." asked King Daryl of Dread,
"To surprise me with goodies, and candy
and bread?"
The king's mouth, it watered; his eyes grew with greed.
The Chancellor explained-and he did so
with speed:
"Sire,
perhaps . . . you've forgotten the date.
It soon will be Christmas! They hardly
can wait
To give all their gifts to their loved ones and friends.
It's the way of the season, its customs
and trends . . .
"They
give to their children, their neighbors, their mates
Their muffin-filled, puffin-filled, sweetmeat-filled
plates.
"No, not for you Sire, and no, not for me
Do they whip up and stir up and bake
up with glee."
That
wasn't good news
For King Daryl of Dread.
His eyes became narrowed;
His face got all red.
"Christmas,
it's Christmas, with nothing for me?
That's totally wrong, as you plainly can
see.
Their food's not their food, their time's not their
time.
Whatever they make must end up being mine!" |
