RICHARD’S CHRISTMAS
Merry Christmas! Goodness me!
Look at that big Christmas tree.
From the ceiling to the floor,
Spreads almost from door to door.
Hardly room to turn around,
Presents pull the branches down.
Wonder what St. Nick brought me?–
Guess I’l1 dig in here and see.
Rubber boots and mittens warm,
Now I’ll go and dare the storm.
Skates and sled; a climbing monk,
And an auto with a honk.
Box of pencils, red and blue,
Hope they’l1 last a week or two.
What an awful lot of toys;
Best of all, some books for boys.
But you wait till time to eat;
What we’ve got just can’t be beat.
Got a turkey this big ’round–
Bet he weighs a hundred pounds.
Smell him cooking in the pan;
Mamma, hurry if you can.
Fill him full of bread and stuff,
Won’t you never make enough?
Here’s our turkey, nice and brown,
How’d you turn him upside-down?
Daddy, you get busy quick;
Yes, I’ll take that big drum stick.
And I want some nice white meat;
Mamma, don’t you cook his feet?
Now some dressing. Yum, yum, yum!
Sweet potatoes? Let ’em come.
Bread and gravy, cut in squares.
Here’s enough for hungry bears.
Cranb’ry sauce and peaches spiced,
Celery, lettuce, pickles sliced.
RICHARD’S CHRISTMAS-Cont.
Then comes brick ice cream and cake,
Suet pudding, Mamma’s make.
Nuts and raisins, crackers, cheese;
Think I’ll have to stop with these.
Have I got a rubber skin?
How did all that grub get in?
Now I’ll stop, I surely must–
One more bite and I will bust.
INNOMINATA
Instead of a pleasure most business is —–
The reason for which is quite easy to tell.
The average person is honest, he thinks,
But it beats the Old Harry how often he winks
At things, which is others would countenance
give
He’d say they were simply too crooked to
live.
His pleasures are centered in things that are
trash,
But to rightfully get them takes plenty of
cash;
And it’s often surprising what things he will
do,
Which are nothing for him but are awful for
you.
Altho he’s quite neutral and doesn’t care much,
He’s hoping the Allies will blow up the Dutch.
Should you lose a fat pocketbook, bid it
goodby–
To get it again would be useless to try.
If you leave a nice package in car seat or rack
Not a chance in a hundred ’twill ever come
back.
The sages of history declare, we are told,
The root of all evil is worship of gold.
Altho we’re not heathens, it’s true, I’m afraid,
We’re worshiping gods that are purely man-
made.
Header Photo: Chicago 1916 Vintage Postcard