by

R.L.Kilgore

Christmas, with its joy and cheer,
Comes but only once each year.
Not enough as it may seem
For my goodness to redeem,

Without disregard or slight,
All the bountiful delight
So justly earned by my degree
Of virtue through this year, you see.

A steady stream of good deeds flowed,
And for the effort now l'm owed
Acknowledgment with gifts I need
That some would say consists of greed.

Since such a good boy I have been,
Replete with care, devoid of sin,
With all my presents piled so high
I hope Santa's sleigh can fly.