It came upon a midnight clear-y
While I pondered weak and weary
What gifts to offer you my dearie
Within the budget I’d set in store
Quoth my wallet, “Nevermore”

Through this silent and holy night
While all else is calm and bright
My pockets quake at the sight
As I meekly enter the grand mall’s door
Quoth my wallet, “Nevermore”

But joy to the world, there’s a world of joy
That lets poor men our songs employ
In lieu of costly trinket, bauble or toy
To express love to the dearest we adore
Quoth our hearts, “Forevermore.”

(With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe and the blessed authors of the Christmas carols )

Posted in: Exit Stage Write | | December 2007