By Ernestine Cobern Beyer
Mrs. Santa was tiptoeing softly around,
Trying to cook without making a sound.
Santa, you see, was asleep in his chair,
Getting rested, no doubt, for his trip in the air.
He had kicked off his boots, and she saw to her woe
That his red woolen socks were each sprouting a toe.
With her mind on this matter instead of her cooking,
She stirred up a batter without even looking!
"Holes in his socks!" said this gentle old soul,
As she emptied a shaker of salt in her bowl.
"I'll darn them tonight," was her penitent thought.
And she threw in some pepper--far more than she ought!
"I wonder," she mused, "if I've yarn of that color?"
She puzzled a moment, then tossed in a cruller,
A cupful of ketchup, some leftover pie,
And a few other things that were standing nearby.
Absentmindedly adding exactly one clove,
She then set her batter to bake in the stove.
At noon when old Santa sat down to his lunch,
He said to his wife, "I've the happiest hunch
That this dish you've prepared is a lovely surprise!"
"You're right!" she replied, looking ever so wise.
"It's surprising to me! It's a funny receipt,
Which somehow I think would be hard to repeat."Chuckled old Santa: "It must be more fun
When you don't know what's cooking 'til after it's done!"
Well, he sampled the dish--then he gave a great cough!
His whiskers flew up and his napkin flew off!
Hearing his wheezes, the good lady guessed
That her lovely surprise wasn't one of her best.
So hastily rising, her cheeks very pink,
She poured her surprising "surprise" in the sink.
"Never mind," Santa said in his comforting way,
"I'll take you to lunch at the Penguin Cafe."
At midnight strange vapors began to arise
From the sink where the dear soul had poured her "surprise."
You see, by a chance more amusing than tragic,
She'd happened to stir up some old-fashioned MAGIC!
Taking the form of most curious vapors,
That magic at midnight was starting its capers.
Into the workroom those vapors went floating,
And all that they touched got a magical coating!
A doll in the box where she'd lately been put,
Lifted the lid with one kick of her foot.
(It startles a person unhardened to shocks
When a dolly, by golly, sits up in her box!)
Next, some tin soldiers, all stiffer than starch,
Climbed out of their carton and started to march.
"Rat-a-tat-tat!" boomed a drum in the room.
"Boom!" said a tiny toy cannon. "Boom-boom!"
"What's that?" Santa asked, sitting up in his bed
With his nightcap and tassel awry on his head.
"I thought I heard something--a gun or a drum!"
Mrs. Claus gave a yawn. "You're dreaming. Ho-hum!"
Santa returned to his slumber once more,
Just as a doll softly opened his door--
The very same dolly whose feet raised the lid
Of the tissue-filled carton in which she was hid.
Climbing the bedspread, she sat on his chest,
Smiling and nodding her prettiest best.
Then, patting his cheek, she leaned close to his ear
And whispered a soft, "Merry Christmas, my dear!"
Santa Claus stirred and he uttered a sigh;
His rosy nose twitched as if touched by a fly,
And he smiled in his sleep as, at first flush of day,
The magical vapors went floating away!
Saturday, March 10, 2007
By Ernestine Cobern Beyer
Posted by rhapsody at 5:45 AM