There are traditions to uphold,
And new ones to make,
A Christmas tea to be had,
And cakes to be baked,
Movies to watch,
And board games to be played,
And that one tradition,
We all insist has just been made.
Bit after the excitement,
It’s time to sleep,
Before he sees you,
When he creeps,
And drops down the chimney,
With sooty foot,
To leave the presents,
Where the tree is stood.
Sleep well in the thought,
That Santa will come,
His gifts will bring joy,
And make sure to leave,
One thing out for he,
A drink of milk or maybe some brandy.
©The Pesky Poet
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