Santa’s Stress, 2021 (with apologies to Anon)
T’was the night before Christmas and Santa’s a wreck.
How to live in a world that’s politically correct?
His workers no longer will answer to “Elves”,
“Vertically Challenged,” they think of themselves.
And labour conditions at the North Pole?
The Union alleges would stifle the soul.
Four reindeer have vanished without much propriety,
released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment has made it quite clear,
that Santa had better not just use reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, and Comet and Cupid,
are replaced with four pigs, that look very stupid!
The runners have gone from his beautiful sleigh,
because ruts are dangerous, say Health & Safety.
And millions of people are calling the cops,
hearing sled noises land upon their roof tops.
At Santa’s puffed pipe smoke, his workers are frightened,
while thinking his fur trimming at best, ‘unenlightened.’
To mirror the strangeness of today’s ebbs and flows,
Rudolf now sues -‘Unauthorized use’ of his nose!
Sigh. Santa’s lost reindeer, and now his poor wife
Claims that she’s had it, ‘Enough of this life!’
Joins a self-help group, packs up in a whiz,
Leaves the Pole promptly, declaring she’s a ‘Ms.’
And as for gifts? Why, Santa had no notion
making choices could cause such commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur…
Cutting ideas for him, and also for her.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot,
Nothing to clamour or vaguely pollute.
No presents either too gender specific,
They mustn’t be warlike or ‘non-pacifistic.’
No candy or sweets – so bad on the tooth.
Nothing that vaguely embellishes truth.
And fairy tales? So far, they’re not forbidden,
But like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden,
Nothing to rile ire in the Wokes psychological,
who demand proper gifts must be all ecological.
No frisbees, no footballs…might get someone hurt,
And anyway, sports risk kids in germ dirt.
Barbie Dolls are too sexist and should be passe.
and Nintendo addiction makes brains rot away.
So, Santa just stands there, dishevelled, perplexed,
Unable to figure out what to do next.
Trying to be merry, attempting face gay,
but hard it sure is, he’s had such a bad day.
His sack is quite empty, lying flat on the ground,
for anything acceptable’s hard to be found.
Something special is needed, a gift that he might
give to us all, acceptable and right.
A gift born to satisfy, with no indecision,
every sector and follower in every religion.
Millennial or oldie, woke, ‘canceller,’ or king
There’s only one gift that suits everything.
So here is that gift, it’s price beyond worth –
“May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on this Earth.”
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