2 December 2012
Dropping down from his watchman's post,
With a sounding thud, his great sack close,
Tipping back his hat, jingles his bells,
Merry face revealed, he will summon no yells.
But if people knew, approve they may not,
But of wishes and promises, this man thinks a lot.
Striding down the street, calm and bold,
Snowflakes caught in his beard, soft yet cold.
Rosy cheeks, kind glistening eyes,
Despite his predicament, no regret lies.
He believes what he is doing is right,
As do many others, they put up no fight.
So graciously tapping upon their door,
Jovial greetings, festivity galore,
He asks delicately to be let in,
Prays what he's doing is really no sin,
Tentatively he enters your room,
Tries to banish any sense of gloom,
''Get in the bag, son. Your coming with me.
'' I need you to put under a tree.''
Face aghast but no questions asked,
The man got him into his sleigh and left fast.
By now you're probably getting the gist.
I'm sorry, but you were on my Christmas list.
The Man In Red • Opuss № I