Christmas poem

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

but alas and alack ‘twas no fire screen there!

A few feet away stood the holiday tree

so majestic, so regal, and as dry as could be...

Its lights left glowing, what a sight to behold,

and the wiring beneath was time-worn and old.

Mother was sleeping in flannel of red,

and father, in blue, was smoking in bed.

The children were restless in their tosses and turns,

each wearing a night shirt that will too easily burn...

I cannot go on; my sto...