A Letter to Santa
Well, Santa, here we go again.
I write you and I tell you how good a kid I’ve been.
I thank you for the toys that you brought last year to me.
Then I tell you I’ll leave milk and cookies ‘neath the Christmas tree.
Big Guy, I can’t speak for you, but I think we’re in a rut.
So what I propose we do this year may make me seem a nut.
Instead of bringing us the stuff my parents think we need,
I’m sending you a Christmas list I hope you’ll really read.
For starters, bring big sister, Sue, a mirror that won’t break up,
When she sits in front of it for hours, putting on her make-up.
For older brother, Joe, who’s a jerk in his own way,
Bring him a computer game he’ll never learn to play.
For Grandma, bring a year’s supply of Egg Nog and Jim Beam.
She gets a bigger high from that than from six-month-old ice cream.
Bring Grandpa a year’s subscription to Playboy Magazine.
He says the educational pictures are the best he’s ever seen.
Bring Uncle Sid and Aunt Marie a new house, far away;
So far that they can’t visit us every other day.
Their visits wouldn’t be so bad, if my bedroom I could keep,
And if it wasn’t snoring Uncle Sid, with whom I had to sleep.
Finally, bring Mom the vacation she’s long been needing,
And for what I’m gonna ask for me, Santa, keep on reading.
I won’t ask for a brand new bike, or a T.V. of my own.
I won’t even ask you for a personal cell phone.
Santa, my daddy’s a soldier, in a place far away from here,
And he can’t come and be with us at Christmas time this year.
I know this is quite a lot to ask, by a kid who’s only five,
But could you bring my Daddy home real soon, and bring him home alive?