Once  upon a midnight  clearier,  ma and I was sleeping  wearier

opened many a quaint and curious box of Christmas gone before.

We’d had a toddy,  now  were napping, suddenly  some  roof  top rapping,

then, more gentle,  fingers  tapping, tapping on the fire screen door.

“Can’t be Santa Claus, ” I muttered  “Just a legend, tut- tut- tuttered”, just  “Virginia, there’s a Santa!” only  that and nothing  more.

  Now distinctly I remember it  was  24th December

and each family shopping  member since Black Friday adding to  our credit more.

Then out popped Santa,  all in black just why I can’t

imagine but to tell we shoppers  keep on  charging  ever more.

Profit prophet  of the season as we just take leave of reason,

crawling  out our  fire screen door.

  “Santa”,  said I kinda  sleepy, “Why the somber sorta  creepy

costume quite unlike the  furry red and white before?”

“Friend”, the former  cheery  fellow   said  more  firmly unlike  jello,

“In my bag are all your charges. I’m declaring no more largesse!

No more  largesse, never more.”

Then he turned, but I intruded, “Hey, you jerk, there’s tax incuded!”

He was gone so this year’s  history  added to some Christmas mystery

but  for next year seems the  simplest?  Santa’s on our Do not call list.

Santa , don’t call  on us, never more!