Tomorrow was Christmas
And all through the house
Mother was spraying things like Lysol and Oust
The stockings were hung with delicate care
Although they would fall with a slight breath of air
The tree was all lit with snowmen around
Of course they were stuffed, for there was no snow to be found
The yard was dead brown, a most pleasant shade
Perhaps it had been strewn with too much ant Raid
The grunts and the groans of Father were loud
Of his daily workout routine he was proud
The Macintosh clan was out in full force
As grandfather yelled and rebelled, but of course
Weather was balmy, nearing 50 degrees
The wind blew but barely, and rustled the trees
Up-stairs was off limits, so the children were told
For there be the presents, wrapped in tinselly gold
The kitchen was dirty and there were pieces of felt
From the cookies and crafts that nearly made the house melt
Nativities filled the house, some of plastic, some wood
And some didn't look just quite like they should
A few had angels with wings bent and torn
Some has four wise men, or sheep that aren't shorn
The house was a mess, Mother's in panic
Father says, "hush, don't be so frantic!"
There are left over sweets, to take to the men
Who put out our fires and won't be home with fam
But we're all here together, our strange little group
We like this warm weather, we are quite the troop
So if you wish to know, how Christmas time goes
In the land of the swamp, where never it snows
Just read this poem, from the Truax of fame
And laugh as you think of the only one with that name.
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