Since first I trekked across this stage,
Oh, MANY years ago,
A chap my folks call Santa Claus
Would always steal the show
Along about this time of year–
But this year someone new
Is filling my horizon up,
Which I DON’T LIKE–would you?
A “stinker”, daddy calls this man,
And he is full of lice–
(He’s lousy, DADDY says), like SPOT,
But SPOT is very nice!
And Santa was so jolly fat–
This one is dark and lean;
He has a little false moustache
In pictures I have seen.
Mummy says because of him
There won’t be many toys:
They need the tin and iron for guns
That make a lot of NOISE.
I think those AXIS ones have sunk
So awf’ly low because
They never were brought up to b’lieve
In dear old Senta Claus!
My daddy may be taken yet,
Which makes me pretty low–
But I’m SURE he’ll help bring SANTA back,
So I may let him go!
My daddy and my toys, to me,
Seems like an AWFUL PRICE:
To win this war, I guess we ALL
Must make SOME SACRIFICEl
by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 7, 1942
