'Christmas cheer
is not found here,
children, we are too poor.
What's left instead,
moldy and stale bread,
and no fancy wreaths on our door.
We'll have no tree
but something came to me
and it'll cure those blues of yours.'
Then Mother took lights,
and at tree height,
afixed them from ceiling to floor
Criss-crossed and V-ed
yes, it turned out to be
the most beautiful tree evermore...
And with that act,
I knew for a fact,
Mother deserved to be adored!
Then Father came in
reeking of his gin
looked upon this and was floored!
His face ghastly,
turned bitter and nasty,
Christmas lights from the wall he tore
'I'll have none of this! '
and he said with a hiss,
'Woman, you are a stupid wh*re.'
And he left a mess
kinda like us, I guess
as we all cried of Christmas's of yore
Still, as Mother was blue
She said, 'This was meant for you'
And the lights went on the wall once more
She said, 'Don't hate,
Father's anger will abate...
He is only sad that we are so poor.'
This happened to be,
Christmas of 1983,
the saddest of that I am sure.
But what I've learned...
love given is love returned
and happiness is something to fight for.