The Last Three Advents

Since I've never tried mince pies,
I Can't say that I don't like,
Their taste, their texture or their smell,
But I don't like their look, oh well...

6th of December
A little girl called holly,
Walked through the woods,
She danced, she sang and ran around,
Like a little girl should,
Her imagination ran wild,
She saw fairies at her side,
A dragon zoomed over head,
The little pixies hide,
Underneath the rocks,
In between the leaves,
Just behind the berries,
Peeking around the trees,
Holly was happier,
than ever before,
But she will grow old,
And think like this no more.