THE REVOLT OF THE LITTLE TIN SOLDIERS
Santa, one year, was upset, so I hear,
And his nerves were most terribly jolted,
When one wintry morning, without any warning,
The little tin soldiers revolted.
The Captain, black-booted, clicked heels and saluted.
"I speak for my regiment, Santa!
We're refusing to go through the sleet and the snow
To Kalamazoo or Atlanta!
"My men and myself shall remain on the shelf.
I know this is strictly forbidden,
But we don't like our suits or our helmets or boots
So, on Christmas, we plan to stay hidden!"
Cried Santa Claus: "STOP! Who's running this shop?
I never heard sillier chatter!"
He sharpened his scrutiny. "This, sir, is mutiny!
What in tarnation's the matter?"
The captain of tin raised his little tin chin.
"Our uniforms couldn't be duller!
We're ashamed to be seen in this poisonous green!
We think we're a horrible color!"
Santa replied with a grin hard to hide,
"Your color's your only complaint, sir?"
He loosened his buckle to let out a chuckle.
"Well, that can be altered with paint, sir!"
Smiling a lot, Santa got out a pot
And worked with his paints for a minute.
Having mixed up a shade guaranteed not to fade,
He dunked the whole regiment in it.
And so, Christmas morn, no longer forlorn,
The soldiers looked ever so jolly,
Each with his puny form decked in a uniform
Brighter and redder than holly!