Christmas poem

Santa, counting his orders and sorting them through
Said “ To me for some reason it’s not ringing true !
Some kids are getting extravagant toys
Whilst some gifts are mere tokens for girls and for boys”

"It’s not good enough to let this difference remain
I think it unfair and quite frankly, insane
The kids are all good, they’ve done nothing bad
And some of this stuff is only a fad"

"But I have a plan to sort out this mess
I don’t like unfairness with some getting less
Who are these children with jet skis assigned
Or dolls with real hair, who walk , talk and smile?"

"Why I know the answer, rich kids are the heirs
To fortunes amazing from property and shares
They don’t have to wait for some of it to be theirs
As they open their presents tucked under the stairs."

"I’m a socialist person at heart don’t you see?
But I know that nice presents cannot be free.
What I want is for some of these well catered-for kids
To to give a few boxes without opening lids."

"I see people in houses and others in sheds
Some sleeping in gutters and other in beds
Some countries are war -torn from June until June
with never a moment to look at the Moon."

"I know that the children who get all the nice toys
Would be really happy and not make a noise
Were all the poor children from here and from there
To wake up that morning to a soft teddy bear"

"I know that they want it , I know it for sure
They may not understand but will feel in their core
That all children should open one present, or more
And play with it happily, without fear of war."

"It’s my job I know to make all this transpire ,
I’ll redistribute the presents, that night, I won’t tire ,
The rich children are happy, they know that it’s fair
And their dreams all are peaceful. They’ve done their share."

[Candobetter.net Editor: To view entire poem, you need to click on the title]

I had trouble keeping up with it a few short years ago ,
But I’m here to tell you all today that I’m still on the go,

I found a way around the fact that “Toys North Pole's" too dear to run
So I globalized activities, outsourced , off-shored and won.

Instead of one big trip each year, I spend nearly all the year in flight,
Placing orders in the Orient in the night and in the light

My emissions rate has risen as the reindeer can’t do this,
I use a jet, its pace is set, orders made just will not miss,

I like to think I’m viable, future proofed and in the black,
My suit is red , my trim is white so don’t give me any flack.

I’m rushed today and in a spin, it’s hard to make things rhyme
It’s all very well for you who sell, but I haven’t any time,

I must away as dawn approaches, westward as my reindeer know
Yes, they do the trip , they do not slip responding well to “Forward ho!’

Santa is feeling the pressure of increased work as population and density of housing in cities increases. He sympathises with the nurses.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa was stressed
His elves overworked but doing their best,
To keep up the good work which grew more and more
To satisfy children entitled by law,
To a visit from Santa on December 24
Down steep sooty chimneys and then out the door.

“There're too many houses and too many toys
To make and distribute to girls and to boys!”
Cried the elves overworked to skin and to bone ,
Stressed out of their brains while they talked on the phone,
Of how to deliver those millions of presents
When the moon on that night would be only a crescent

And since their last trip,10 million new houses
Awaited delivery of toys and of blouses,
They knew from last year the work had expanded
Crafting millions more toys e’er Santa landed
Back at the north pole from his twenty ten orbit,
Which took him so long he was candidly morbid

Crying “How can they ask for more work each year?
Productivity improvements come very dear
To us in our workplace we cannot do better
Please think of our health and do not send letters!
There’s too many of you and too few of us,
Our reindeer hang in there and don’t make a fuss

But when they look for a house and then they find eight.
Poor Santa gets worried as he’s running so late!
Those planners and pollies do not think ahead,
Not even to the night when their kids go to bed
Expecting one man to come to ever more homes
With wonderful trinkets and be-jeweled combs."

"It’s all very well for them and for theirs
I now have to climb all those millions of stairs!
I’m not getting younger and neither are they
But their superannuation will save the day.
Like all those dear nurses, I love what I do
But pressure from others just stuffs me up too.”