[Elfs ere a mite weary o’ cute “bowl full o’
jelly” holidaye rymz (and they can’t spale), so pleez bare with me, I’ll be doin’ th’ best I
can.]
Somz o’ youz been very good,
somz
been more than questionable;
Somz o’ youz been very hopin’
th’
question’ble iz neglígible.
Somz o’ youz been sendin’ cardz,
somz
been sendin’ prazents,
Somz o’ youz haz been on tyme,
but
mostliest youz hazn’t.
Now, this ol’ happy Christmas elf,
a'lookin’
in th’ back,
Underneath me baseball glove
and
an empty birdseed sack,
Fynally found me cardz o’ Christmas,
stor’d
wyzely very near,
Someplace I’d forgot compleetly,
by
th’ end o’ th’ previous year.
So, youz ere probably readin’ this card
a
teeny, wee bit laight,
And wonderin’ why a jolly ol’ elf
can’t
keep me tymin’ straight.
Why can’t he cinch up a saddle and bellz
on
Rudolph th’ palomino,
Go to th’ mall, pick out some cardz,
and
have a cappuccino?
Well, let me offer all an attempt
to
make it christal cleer,
How an ol’ elf myte struggle to view
with
glee, this “hollydaye” cheer;
How th’ lytes grow oddly dim,
and
th’ eggnog densely flat,
Whyle gawkin’ at all th’ hullabaloo
lyke
on a tack he sat:
Listenin’ to th’ radio,
whyle
workin’ in me shop,
I heard an awful, dreadful phraze,
me
bellz a ringin’ stop’d.
It seemz a local mercantyle,
ignorin’
anchent costums,
Had hyred “hollydaye” elfs to sell
their
hollydaye stuff o’ nostrums.
“Hollydaye elfs!?” I growl’d and shriek’d,
a’fumin’
in a pique,
Knowin’ many a lass and ladd,
would
find th’ term oblique.
Youngunz ‘round th’ snowy world,
hearin’
this drab depiction,
Ne’er
would reckon th’ Blesséd Daye
bringz Joy beyond description!
So I doff’d me pointy elfish cap,
set
down me elfish pype,
And, consecratin’ Christmas new,
condemn’d
th’ market hype.
“I yam a Christmas Elf!”, I yell’d
‘cross
buzy Elfland town,
“(Altho’ me cardz iz somewhat lait),
I
yam no merchant’s clown!”
“No more shoppin’ through th’ stallz!”
and
I drew me family near,
“We will celebrait th’ mass,
az
th’ Holy Daye this year!”
“But,
what about me praz’nts?” ask’d
th’
elf ladd o’ th’ house.
“We need no stinkin’ praz’nts”, I roar’d;
him
frozen az a mouse.
Then, forthwith, did I recall
what
were th’ praz’nts foor;
Why we bless th’ naighborz all,
bring
victualz to th’ poor.
We celebrait th’ graitest Gift
and
watch th’ darlin’ elflingz playe;
We worship Mary’s little Ladd,
‘cuz
Christmas iz th’ Holy Daye.
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