Billy's Christmas

The time grows nearer, I think you can tell,
The cheerful music is casting a happy spell,
The spirit of giving, filled with such joy,
Smiling children with their brand new toy,
All because of the man dressed up in red,
Flying in the night, by children he is fed,

But one boy is the reason for this happy tale,
I’ve been a good boy, the letter said in the mail,
He is seven years old, a boy named Billy,
He isn’t mean, rude, or crude, just very silly,
Except for the time his sister’s hair he did glue,
Mostly good, bad time he had a few it is true,

He was fast asleep all snuggled in his bed,
Santa entered his house, not a word was said,
Dreaming of dinosaurs, he was so very unaware,
Saint Nick filled the stockings with such care,
Santa hummed to himself jolly Yule tunes,
Billy awoke thinking that below were raccoons,

As he reached the first floor he found the small white dish,
Empty of cookies, for which he had had to beg and wish,
They were for Santa Clause! Billy said, as he grew mad,
He baked them with some help from his mom and dad,
How dare those rascals come and eat them now!
Those creatures he thought must be fat as a cow,

Santa heard him coming, so he quickly hid,
Finding nothing, Billy almost blew his tiny lid,
Suddenly Billy heard something from the fireplace,
Grabbing a poker, to the ashes he did race,
With all his strength Billy managed to hit,
Words of pain and surprise Santa loudly spit,

Tumbling down Santa fell into the soot,
His face covered, Billy saw only one foot,
Arms crossed and face set, there Billy stood,
Making his four feet as big as he could,
The cookies for Santa Clause you ate! Why?
Billy asked the dirty man, about to cry,

Who are you? You dirty, old, and smelly bum,
You best leave or I will call for my mum,
Santa was confused as he looked at the lad,
Smiling at the attitude and courage he had,
He picked Billy up and put him to sleep,
Telling him softly this memory to always keep.