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"Dear Santa Claus," wrote Mary
Ann,
"I really do think that a pram
Would be the very, very thing
I'd wish a Santa Claus would bring.
Please make it big and make it
blue,
With room for dolls and teddy too.
And if the bedding comes with
it,
No sheets and blankets snugly fit;
A modern pram, my friends all
say,
Should sport a Pokémon duvet."
At dead of night on
Christmas Eve,
Poor Santa Claus did shove and heave,
Until the pram was
safely there,
Down chimney dark, and with much care
He dusted off his
sooty coat,
And shook his beard and cleared his throat.
Climbed out the
hearth with happy thought
Of Mary's joy with what he'd brought.
And all
the way to Mary's door,
A-tiptoeing on creaking floor,
To find upon
young Mary's bed
Another note, and this one read,
"Dear Santa Claus,
re. message 1,
I really was just having fun.
But then, of course, you
know I am
Now much too grown up for a pram.
And (if it's possible, of
course),
I'd very much prefer a horse!"
Janet
Johnson |
