Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Grandma and Grandpa would soon be there.
I was nestled all snug in by bed,
With visions of beaver tails dancing in my head.
Mom reading gossip blogs, listening to gangster rap,
And I’d just settled down for a short cat nap.
When out in the living room arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my crib to see what was the matter.
Away down the stairs, I flew like a flash,
One step at a time, I didn’t want to crash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a man holding a tree and in the other hand a beer.
With his dashing good looks and clothes in fad,
I knew in a moment it must be my Dad.
The shear frustration, the swears that came,
As he whistled, shouted, and called out many names.
“Ah Jerkass, you piece of garbage, and crap-it-all,
I thought we measured this tree, it’s too damn tall!”
And his hands all tarnished with pine tar and debris.
A long handled saw, he held in his hands,
Looked like he’d been swimming, but it was just his sweat glands.
His nostrils – how they breathed deeply, flaring,
His cheeks were like roses, winded from swearing.
He was tall and lanky, a funny looking guy,
I always laugh around him, his humor is so dry.
I was worried, as he held tight his teeth,
The saw dust encircled his head like a wreath.
But a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Let me know that I had nothing to dread.
He turned away and went straight to his work,
Finished cutting the tree, and up with a jerk.
Setting the tree vertical, inside the support,
And unfortunately noticing he’d cut it too short.
He collapsed to the couch, and let out a sigh,
But it didn’t matter, it was the best tree that money could buy,
And they heard him exclaim, with a touch of cheer,
“Happy Christmas to all! Where’d I put my damn beer?”
