Now I lay me down to sleep,
A fine fir tree in snow so deep.
Twasn’t always such with me,
For once I was a Christmas tree.
Yes indeed, a Christmas tree,
With ornaments displayed on me!
Red and gold, blue and green,
A beautiful sight twas to be seen.
Pretty lights shone oh so bright,
Twas lovely to behold at night!
Fun and laughter did abound,
With family home from all around.
Sweet little girls and doggies too,
A delightful time through and through!
Twas oh so fun to grace that home,
Before they all did start to roam,
Back to their homes, both near and far…
You should have seen Steve’s well packed car!
But here I lie now in the snow,
For my time too, had come to go.
Back to the land from which I came,
Hoping for next year, the same.
What will now become of me,
A fine fir tree cut down, you see?
I wish I could come back next year,
And join this family in Christmas cheer.
But now I lay me down to sleep,
A fine fir tree in snow so deep.
Poor little tree left out in the cold . . . I'll put you back!
ReplyDeleteSheesh, Mom, I don't know that I've ever felt so sad (and oddly guilty) for the passing of a Christmas tree. I hope the heartless wretch who did this fiendish thing has been punished by being boiled in his own pudding.
we should keep all our christmas trees. poor little babies!!
ReplyDeleteAnd so I see the cast is set,
ReplyDeletethe Guilty and the Innocent.
The Innocent just LOVE that tree,
the Guilty face reality.
We Guilty know what soon will be,
as needles brown and leave the tree.
It never can go back inside,
in former beauty there reside.
But Innocents will dream and cry,
and say we only need to try.
And if we try with all our might,
we're sure to win this winless fight.
Then on a cool, dark, springy night,
when fire lights the backyard bright.
The Guilty will delight to see,
the brightest light leap from that tree.
We'll watch the shapeless, barren tree,
In glory flame into eternity.
But then we know that we must hide,
from the Innocents who stayed inside.
They've spent their evening stirring pots,
making pudding, not little, but lots!
For in revenge they hope to see,
Us boil away-WE BURNED THEIR TREE!
Us Guilty on the run will be,
boiling pudding puts a fear in me.
In time the pudding will cool down,
and we'll come back and sit around.
Forgiveness asked, forgiveness given,
warm pudding eaten, it's almost heaven.
Wait a minute. How many English majors do we have in this family?
ReplyDeleteYeah, now we know where the curse, er, gift came from!
ReplyDeleteit definitely did not get passed down to me
ReplyDeleteTis not a curse, an English Major thou didst graduate,
ReplyDeleteThough canals and roots in deep caverns have been thy work of late.
Drilling and tools of every sort are fitting for work of thy kind,
It takes the right equipment and, of course, a bright smart mind.
But wait, you say you do not work in archaeology,
Searching for the artifacts of ancient history?
Does my desription sound more like an archaeologist,
Than endodontic surgery, in which you do assist?
Perhaps a course in English, a fitting thing would be,
Before I take to writing descriptive poetry!
whats high price?
ReplyDeletehigh price ice.
what makes butteR?
a cows udder.
do i fit in now?
Sorry David, I believe Daniel has a copywrite on those lines
ReplyDeleteinglish majors are we all
ReplyDeletemom and pop and kids- yee haw!
it doan matter where we werk,
hawkin books,
pulling teeth with a jerk,
fixin bugs in computer stuff,
er enginerring trucks to be tuff
cuz no mater what we do
we spel and talk and write so true.
inglish majors are we all
if you ned help jus give a call
we can spel that grate big word
or make a ryhme thats prety good
doan no how we got this way
fer us inglish is jus childs play
must have been from readin books
or being corected by moms stern looks
but no matter how it came
knowin inglish is our game
eggzalent!!!
ReplyDeleteYou know, my colleagues at the Library of Congress' Center for the Preservational Activity of All Things Poetical have been asking me for some recommendations. I think I've finally found a poem that every inglish mager will be proud to own and recite. Thanks, Dad.
ReplyDeleteOh good, I always wanted get into politics! Make sure it gets into the Republican library.
ReplyDelete