THE POET WAS AS EXCITED AS A CHILD ABOUT CHRISTMAS. (1 )

Suggestion to visitors:  you could print these pages, staple them together, and and put the result in that secret drawer where you'll be putting Christmas presents in a few months. 
        Ernestine's fanciful visions of life at the North Pole appeal to the young at heart of every age.  Only the most obstinate of Grinches could fail to appreciate the off-the-wall humor and whimsical absurdities that twinkle from every page. 

        As excited as a child about the approaching holiday, the poet was able to empathize with her suspense-filled children. On Christmas Eve she would ask with a kind, tentative smile, "Do you suppose you'd like to open just one gift before tomorrow morning?"

        Oh, could we really?  With this precious privilege, how much easier it was, no matter how simple the gift, for my siblings and me to endure the longest night of the year.

        The poet's prolific imagination was nourished by her affection for Santa Claus and the wife she was confident he had.  In "A Christmas Mix-Up," she employs one of her favorite poetic devices.  The first and third lines of every verse contain a musical inside rhyme.  ("She mounted the seat, well-polished and neat" . . . "As above her abode, Mrs. Santa Claus rode . . . ")  It's a marvel that Ernestine could perform this stunt so gracefully in verse after verse.

       After the unfortunate mix-up occurs, the poet was asked by Jack and Jill to revise one verse.  A boy writes Santa with some bitterness:  "Thanks for the doll and the pink parasol—Go sit on an iceberg . . . . Bill."  Ernestine amended the offending line to "But don't bother with me next year . . . . Bill."  I prefer the inspired irreverence of the original version, and I think Santa does, too.

       A season or two after her Christmas mix-up, Santa's spouse manages to stir up a surprising surprise and some incredible (to a Grinch) old-fashioned MAGIC.  By the time we've finished reading about these events one thing is clear:  The private life of Santa Claus is never dull.

      As fond as Ernestine was of the holiday's festivities, she expressed her deeper feelings in "The Little Tin Trumpet."

A trumpet small and jolly

And happy as could be,

Once dangled by a dolly

Upon a Christmas tree.

"I'll sing the Christmas story!

I love it so!" he cried;

And filled with timid glory,

The little trumpet tried.

"Be quiet!" said the dolly,

Such a racket!  Deary me!

To try to sing is folly—

Your song is all off‑key."

But still the trumpet jingled

His happy little note;

His tinsel tonsils tingled;

(His heart was in his throat!)

An angel touched him lightly

With magic (Oh, it's true!)

"Sing on!" she told him brightly;

"The world has need of you!"

The love that filled his singing,

Now everyone could hear;

And so his song went ringing

Triumphant, true and clear.

The little trumpet glistened;

His tune was sweet and mild;

He sang and children listened . . .

And everybody smiled!

A REMARKABLE HAPPENING

Santa Claus, finishing turkey and pie,

Rose from the table and uttered a sigh,

And said with a wink at his little round wife:

"As a cook, Mrs. S., you're the crown of my life!"

Then brushing the crumbs of his banquet away,

He ran from the house and jumped into his sleigh.

Climbing a roof, Santa sat on its peak,

Sorting his gifts with his tongue in his cheek.

Then smiling, he waved at the slumbering town,

And climbing a chimney, he let himself down.

But suddenly, dear, his expression of buoyance

Changed to a look of astonished annoyance!

His holiday dinner had made him so stout,

He couldn't get down--and he couldn't get out!

He wiggled and wriggled, but Santa, by Jim'ney,

Was stuck like a jolly red cork in the chimney!

                                                                   Grace Lawrence

"Help!" Santa cried with the wind in his beard.

Windowpanes opened, and nightcaps appeared.

People ran out, rather scantily shirted;

The Mayor was called, the police were alerted!

Children looked on with delighted hysterics

As firemen worked with their pulleys and derricks

Till finally Santa emerged with a flop,

Coming uncorked with an audible pop!

Well, somehow, my dears, he delivered his gifts,

Then homeward he flew over mountains and drifts;

And humbled, and puzzled, and risking her censure,

He told Mrs. Claus of his hapless adventure.

Patting his shoulder, she comforted him.

"Nonsense!" she said.  "You are splendidly trim!

“Come finish the pie--and don't worry or fear--

“The chimneys are just getting smaller, my dear!”

ABOVE HER ABODE MRS. SANTA CLAUS RODE (2)

A Christmas Mix-Up


One bright Christmas Eve, years ago, I believe,

Santa felt feverish all day.

He was sick in his bed with a cold in his head,

And couldn't go out in his sleigh.

Mrs. Santa came in with a comforting grin.

"Now, just you rest cozy, my dear!

Yes, Santy, it's late, but don't worry your pate.

l'll deliver the presents this year!"

The good lady fled to the sled in the shed,

And patting the shoulder of Blitzen,

She mounted the seat, well‑polished and neat

That Santa Claus usually sits in.

Then off and away went the little red sleigh!

Swiftly and surely it rose,

As above her abode Mrs. Santa Claus rode,

Cleaving the clouds with her nose.

Bursting with pride, she continued to ride,

Till carried by sure‑footed hoof,

She at last settled down in a faraway town,

And nimbly stepped out on a roof.

But alas and alack!  When she opened her pack

Full of Santa's bright playthings and games,

She found she'd mislaid the list he had made—

His list of addresses and names.

Well, Christmas, that year, was a mix-up, I hear.

The folks who liked puppies got kittens.

Babies looked wise wearing jackets and ties.

While their daddies got bootees and mittens!

A zoo‑keeper got a geranium pot,

Quite useless, but charmingly painted.

While his gift, a bear, was delivered somewhere

To a nervous old lady who fainted.

But just about dawn when her gifts were all gone

Mrs. Santa flew home through the sky,

And she thought, knowing not of the havoc she'd wrought:

"What a blessing to Santa am I!"

When Christmas was past, and Santa, at last

Was belatedly reading his mail,

He discovered with shame that the gist of the same

Was an angry  or sorrowful wail.

"Dear Santy," (I quote from one brief little note),

"Thanks for the dress with the frill,

And thanks for the doll and the pink parasol—

But don’t bother with me next year . . . Bill."

Santa, no dunce, understanding at once

What had happened, ran out of the house,

Determined to fix up the terrible mix-up

Caused by his blundering spouse.

With his list in his hand he flew over the land,

And never a moment he rested

Till each girl and boy had gotten the toy

Which had been so politely requested.

Then homeward he went, well pleased and content,

And he gave Mrs. Santa three kisses,

But the muddle she made when she offered her aid,

He tactfully kept from the missus!

That lady, forsooth, unaware of the truth,

Was happy, and quite satisfied.

She was full of good cheer that lasted all year,

Because of her Christmas ride.

"THIS TOMMY DESERVES SOMETHING SPECIAL, I THINK." (3)

TOMMY'S LETTER TO SANTA

Santa Claus, dressed in the loudest of vests,

Was reading his mail full of Christmas requests,

When he found Tommy's note (rather smudgy to see)

Which said, SANTA, PLEASE SEND A BONNET TO ME!

"A bonnet?" thought Santa.  The rest of the note

Said, SANTA, PLEASE BRING ME A SILK PETTICOAT!

AND PLEASE BRING A DRESS OF A COLOR NOT GLOOMY

A BABY IS COMING, SO PLEASE MAKE IT ROOMY.

Santa glanced at his wife and remarked with a wink,

"This Tommy deserves something special, I think!

He asks for some presents," he smilingly said,

But not for himself; for his mother, instead!"

Santa's wife reached for a jar on the table,

A jar which had "MAGIC" inscribed on its label.

She then found a box, sprinkled magic inside it,

And helped by old Santa, she carefully tied it.

When Christmas day dawned, very sparkling and pleasant,

Tommy discovered his gaily-wrapped present.

He opened it up and stared for a minute,

The box was quite empty!  Not one thing was in it!

Then he noticed a card, and surprised to his socks,

He read, "Merry Christmas, my lad!  Shake the box!"

Dazed and bewildered, he put on the lid,

And rattled the box just the way he was bid.

Well, I give you my word that he'd no sooner done it

Than out fell a stylish and flattering bonnet!

He shook it again, then he stared, goggle-eyed,

For out fell a dress that was seven yards wide.

Next came some rompers and booties so small,

They seemed to be made for a real baby doll!

But that wasn't all!  Came a jumping-jack toy

And a book and a sweater just right for a boy!

Far off, Santa Claus and his missus were sitting,

He with his corncob and she with her knitting.

Their magical radio brought them the joys

Of the lad still delightedly finding his toys.

“That's Tommy," said Santa Claus, beaming with pride,

"He's shaking our box with the magic inside!"

SMART OLD SANTA, SUSPICIOUS, SWUNG AROUND. (4)

THE NIGHT I CAUGHT SANTA

One Christmas Eve, I stayed up late

And hid myself because

It was my plan to lie in wait

And watch for Santa Claus.

At twelve o'clock, I heard a noise,

And peeping out real quick,

I saw the chimney raining toys

Then out fell old St. Nick!

I must have giggled once, I fear;

I quickly stopped the sound,

But smart old Santa, sharp of ear,

Suspicious, swung around.

He laughed a jolly, "Ho, ho, ho!"

Then said with twinkling eyes:

"It isn't every boy I know

Who takes me by surprise!"

Then putting me astride his back,

He bore me to his sled,

And there he gave his whip a crack,

"Heigh-ho!  We're off!" he said.

We climbed down chimneys all night through,

`Cause he and I were chums;

He let me fill some stockings, too.

With dolls and sugarplums.

And as I helped arrange the toys

That magic Christmas Eve,

I saw such wonders, girls and boys,

As you would scarce believe!

The dolls that Santa set in place

Would lift their arms up high

And tug his beard and kiss his face,

And fondly call, "Goodbye!"

Next morning when I woke in bed

I heard my mother say:

“For goodness sake, you sleepy-head!

Wake up!  It's Christmas day!"

"WHOA, DONNER, WHOA!" SANTA LOUDLY REPEATED. (5)

REINDEER TROUBLE

Santa Claus, just a bit late, I believe

Was taking his usual trip, Christmas Eve,

When all of a sudden he uttered a shout

As his little red sled started lurching about.

Something had happened to startle the reindeer.

Donner, the leader, a very well-trained deer,

Had sighted a comet.  (He had, on my honor . . . .)

And the comet was rapidly heading for Donner!

"Whoa!" shouted Santa--then grabbed at his cap,

But he might just as well have commanded: "Giddap!"

For Donner was dashing away in the sky,

Going so fast and so far and so high

That he very soon came to that place far away

Which angels reserve for small cherubs at play.

Alarmed at the sight of the runaway sled,

Some dove into mist-banks, heels over head;

One of them happily strumming his harp,

Showed his excitement by striking a sharp!

                                                                                                Grace Lawrence

Another so hastily fled through the blue

That he tumbled his little gold halo askew!

"Whoa, Donner, whoa!" Santa loudly repeated,

Bouncing so high he was nearly unseated!

But rolling his eyeballs and snorting aloud,

Panicky Donner just fled for a cloud,

And reaching it, tunneled it hopefully through--

Only to find that the comet had, too!

Santa, poor fellow, was wearing a frown,

For by now he was riding along upside-down.

Then Donner swerved sharply, thus righting the sled,

And tailed by the comet, went plunging ahead

'Til he presently met, looming up in his track,

A rain-swollen cloud of a thunderous black.

Towering awesomely there in the skies,

This cloud was so very enormous in size

That when it uncorked its spectacular spout,

"Glug!" said the comet--and meekly went out.

Greatly relieved, Santa straightened his cap,

Slapped at the reins, and once more cried "Giddap!"

He waved at the cherubs and winked a bright eye

As Donner turned 'round and descended the sky.

And so, just as midnight was starting to chime,

He arrived at your rooftop exactly on time!

WE'RE REFUSING TO GO THROUGH THE SLEET AND THE SNOW (6)

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!