Though they be as Scarlet
I’m dancing with my polar bear
down city streets with savoir-faire
and with a couple bucks we owe
we purchase us some tuxedos
that we might dapper be a pair
who makes the penguins stop and stare
and wonder how these two might be
dressed up like us, right to a T,
toboggan on, wave as they go,
and praise our little Christmas show.
“Oh, Mr. Bear, I fail to hear
the children singing songs this year
of Jesus born in Bethlehem,
do you suppose, forgotten, them,
the songs that make the whole earth sing,
songs of Christ, our newborn King
forgotten, oh, it cannot be,
Please, come-on, bear! Please, sing with me!
Please, sing a song that they might know,
the Greek, the Jew, the Eskimo.”
... and I awake to find a freshly fallen blanket of pure white snow.