Chimney Fire

Only forty more sleeps and then Santa will come with the bells and the beeps and the presents for some. Only good kids will get what all good kids have earned so there's no need to fret where our tribe is concerned. Now the stockings are swaying near the chimney's old brick and the snowflakes are playing all in honour of Nick. It is bedtime and after but all riled are the boys we can hear their sweet laughter as they think about toys. They've turned on in a hurry their CB radios will they work in the flurry of the blizzard, who knows? They were talking on air to a deep and stern voice and with all-knowing flair over loud static noise, were discussing details as to when the big shipment with the things it entails thanks to proper equipment, would arrive then to fill all the stockings at last when the room became still, and young Greg yelled it fast: ' Hold your reindeers, St. Nick when you get here and use it is equally quick the front door, do not choose our old chimney today you will burn in the flames and our stockings will sway with no toys and no games.' Now you know the tradition of the stockings still works and each year it's his mission to stop by at those jerks who with timber and coal light their Christmas Eve fire from the distant North Pole comes the man we admire, and he slides with Ho Ho down the chimney to bring all the goodies we know and his praises we sing. But the sound Ho Ho Ho is a real good answer it's an arctic air blow as suggested by Prancer. And no fire keeps going to prevent bringing gifts it is cold out and snowing and they fly over drifts. Merry Christmas to Santa and to all living things from the Pole to Atlanta and for paupers and kings.