THE CHIMNEY & THE STRUGGLE

The North Pole was dispossessed upon,

 

Eight reindeer repossessed;

 

The workshop’s currently a sale house

 

Where kids offered on toys.

 

Yes, the gossip’s actual that Santa Claus

 

Went enormous red paunch up.

 

Try not to accuse the Candy Cane Bank

 

It’s not their blame Old Saint Nick

 

Couldn’t keep his snow white facial hair

 

What’s more, ruddy cheeks over the ice.

 

Father Christmas was a terrible venture

 

I heard one Bank CEO say to another

 

He gave excessively away without

 

Gathering legitimate profits.

 

I figure Old Chris Cringle paid the cost

 

As now he’s holding out his cap

 

For treats on Fifth Avenue,

 

What’s more, individuals call him inebriated.

 

The correct dapper old mythical person

 

Requests cocoa in the soup line

 

Be that as it may, he never gets it,

 

Simply his half-potato

 

With some stock and

 

This malodorous looking

 

Bit of meat that is

 

Glided there too long.

 

Craving’s a decent helper

 

I’ve heard the lawmakers say.

 

Be that as it may, they’ve never clustered with

 

The refuse to keep warm

 

Like St. Scratch and incalculable

 

Others like him.

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