SANTA'S RETIRED NOW
By Josie Whitehead
That poor old man called Santa Claus
Looked round and then he sighed.
And on his desk were lists of toys –
And poor old Santa cried.
‘A hundred years delivering toys
Is more than I can take!’
He dried the tears on both his cheeks:
‘And changes I will make.’
He advertised his Santa job:
Perhaps you saw it too.
‘A lovely vacancy,’ it said:
‘Is waiting here for you.’
Within a week his job had gone.
He packed his bags and went.
He left the world of kids and toys
To a life much more content.
He burnt the red coat and the hat,
Waved goodbye to his deer;
He shaved the white beard from his face
And gave a hearty cheer.
He shut the door and hurried off
To somewhere in the sun -
And he’ll not turn out Christmas Eve
For he’ll be having fun!!
So, before you sleep on Christmas Eve,
Look out and into space:
For that new man, with lists in hand,
Has taken Santa’s place.
I hope you’ll get the things you’d like
For a new job’s hard to do:
But hopefully, when you awake,
There’ll be some gifts for you.
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