Scrambled Christmas


Helen Cann

All is calm, all is bright;
the cattle are lowing.
Don we now our gay apparel;
let earth receive her king:
Santa Claus is coming to town !

It doesn’t show signs of stopping:
pa rum pum pum pum;
and a partridge in a pear tree
raising the sound.

We all like our figgy pudding,
and all the souls on earth shall sing.
Between an ox stall and an ass
the silent stars go by;
bruise in us the serpent’s head
so frequently to vanquish all.

Lo ! He abhors not the virgin’s womb;
a voice, a chime, a chant sublime
disperses the gloomy clouds of night.
Gone away is the bluebird
to see if reindeer really know how to fly —
out jumps good old Santa Claus:
fum fum fum !

The darkness everywhere,
thy leaves are so unchanging,
happy golden days of yore
among the leaves so green:

a star in the sky, or a bird on the wing;
jingle bell time is a swell time —
jingle all the way !

*[ WSB ].