Here's a Christmas poem I wrote the other day.

Enjoy!

‘Twas the night before Christmas

and all through the shop,

not an elf would hammer,

paint, wrap or chop.

The elves were on strike

and would not lift a hand,

until Santa was prepared

to meet their demands.

‘What’s this?’ cried Santa,

as soon as he heard.

You’re going on strike?

Why that is absurd!

Now come my good elves,

there is no time to waste!

To make it before Christmas,

we must move with haste!

One elf stepped forward

and in a loud ringing voice,

‘We’re quite sorry Santa,

but you’ve left us no choice.’

For hours we toll,

with hardly any sleep ,

we’re working for pennies,

we can’t live so cheap.

But that’s merely a fraction,

of all our dismay,

and you’d do well to listen,

if you want us to stay.

There was a long pause,

Santa’s mouth a thin line.

He crossed his arm’s tightly

and snapped out ‘Oh, Fine’.

The elf unfurled a scroll,

and taking a deep breath

stated quite clearly,

‘We of the E.T.F’

‘Hang on’, Santa interrupted,

holding out his hand.

You said ‘E.T.F’,

for what does that stand?

The Elf Treatment Front,

Santa was shortly told.

Designed as a balance,

against the power you hold

At this Santa scowled,

but by the elves he was dismissed,

as the E.T.F. Leader,

read the first item from the list

Every year, Mrs. Claus…

Oh the goods that she bakes!

We’re sick of you getting it all

and demand 50% of the take!

Santa sputtered incoherently,

his face red with rage.

‘50% of the goodies,

you’re out of your cage!

You can all pack your bags,

your demands are plain dumb.

Get out of my sight,

you’re not getting a crumb!

The elves blinked in shock

The talks were a bust!

They had never expected,

Santa to cause such a fuss

An elf said hesitantly

’25 percent? Only 1 out of 4?’

Santa gave him a cold look,

and jerked a thumb at the door

The elves started leaving,

some haughty, some sad.

But then, Mrs. Claus came,

and boy was she mad!

‘Stop’ she commanded

and the elves froze in place.

She turned towards Santa,

a finger jabbing his face

It’s the season of sharing

you old stubborn fool.

And you mean to tell me,

you won’t share a cookie or two?

When millions of children

can unselfishly place,

a snack of milk and cookies,

for you to stuff your face?

Santa bowed his head sorrowfully

While Mrs. Claus aimed her glare,

at all of the elves,

who shivered slightly in fear.

And as for you elves

why you ought to be slapped!

Unions and wages

and all of this crap!

You know we can’t pay you,

though I’d think it enough,

to see happy faces ,

as kids get their stuff!

No more raging over cookies,

no complaining over pay.

It’s Christmas Eve people,

let’s load up this sleigh!

For a moment no one moved,

then stepped forward an elf,

who hesitantly began labeling,

gifts from off a shelf.

It took only one

before the rest leapt into action.

Mrs. Claus broke into a smile,

nodding in satisfaction

Gifts were being wrapped,

bows tied in elegant knots.

The sleigh loaded with goodies,

past enmity forgot.

And then it was done,

the sleigh loaded, ready to go.

Several elves dragging it ,

outside in the snow.

Santa thanked all the elves,

and kissed his wife good-bye.

Then hurried outside,

to hitch the reindeer to his ride

But reaching the sleigh,

the reindeer weren’t in their place.

Instead facing Santa,

with smirks on their face

‘Oh no!’, groaned Santa.

‘Honey, Come quick!’

He yelled for his wife,

over demands for salt lick.

TwistyWristy