’Twas a week before Christmas and we all were still shopping
Brookstone was packed and the Mac store was hopping
A sale at the Gap and at Lucky Brand beckoned.
There was 50 cents left in my wallet, I reckoned.
But the stocking was stuffed and the tips had been tipped.
The gift to Aunt Millie had finally been shipped.
The cards had gone out and we’d hung up the wreath,
So my husband and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The children were safely all tucked in their beds
as visions of Christmas gifts danced in their heads.
More Barbies, more Furbies, more Transformers too.
Dreaming of Angry Birds, Elmo and Pooh.
Then from way up above there arose such a clatter.
My husband ran up to see what was the matter.
Someone was walking up there on the house.
And that someone was bigger for sure than a mouse.
A burglar? A reindeer? What could it be?
Something was headed straight for our chimney.
And then with an “oomf” and an “ugh” he came down,
Not through the chimney but down to the ground.
With big rosy cheeks and good cheer galore
Our mystery roof-walker appeared at the door.
“I’m the guy that you called, I’m a roofer named Kringle.
That Hurricane Sandy? She ruined your shingles.
“You need a new roof,” said the man dressed in red.
“If you don’t do it soon it’ll fall in on your head.”
We looked at the children asleep in their beds,
At the pile of bills, and then scratched our heads.
Then we gave him a Visa to clean up the mess
Because Kringle won’t take American Express.
©2012, Beckerman. All rights reserved.
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