Twas the War on Christmas, and all through the night
Not a tradition was present, no manger in sight.
The church down the road might have had one,
But, it’s too far to walk, and I’m not going to run.
The heathens were nestled, all snug in their beds,
Probably assuming that Christmas was dead.
But Jesus was living, as true believers knew,
Even if nativity scenes were hidden from view.
When out in the Wal-Mart there arose such a clatter,
For true Christians were expected to think others mattered.
Away to the call center they flew like a flash,
To banish “Happy Holidays” into the trash.
The moon on the dash of the cars down below
Made it easy to see who had Bibles to show.
When what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a store Santa Claus, removing his beard.
Holding a liquor bottle, he looked for distractions,
So children present would forget his actions.
More rapid than an eagle, his voice rang,
As he whistled, and shouted, and started his game.
“Now Baptists! now, Methodists! now, Orthodox and Pentacostal!
My Catholics! my Amish! my other readers of the Gospel!
To the trenches and ramparts and drones we must go!
To defend Christmas for Christians, in these days of woe!”
As soon as he thought the audience was with him,
And, he’d held down the alcohol in his system,
Into the improvised story he flew,
With a sleigh full of anecdotes, and an urban legend or two.
And then, in a twinkling, we all heard the truth,
The exposure of lies from this Christmas sleuth.
He went on for a while about Christmas being ruined,
Then jumped to the endgame, to cut down on confusion.
“They want to destroy Christmas, the secular progressives,
Indeed, their methods are quite impressive.
Claiming it doesn’t matter how Christmas is celebrated by all,
Or throwing a these-practices-came-from-pagans curveball.”
“These heathens may sound fine! Their beliefs seem merry!
Their arguments may be as tasty as cherries!
But, don’t fall for the secular Christmas line,
About how we should respect all beliefs in Yuletide!”
He took out a pipe and held it tight in his teeth,
Trying now to win over those with less emotional beliefs.
He tried to look smart and put his hands on his belly,
Then thought better of it, remembering that meal from the deli.
“Some may say my claims are overblown,
And that we should respect beliefs different from our own.
That it doesn’t matter how or if others celebrate Christmas.
If they’re not interfering with us, it’s none of our business.”
He spoke on and on about how we’re a Christian nation,
And, what became clear was the strength of his libation.
By the time he finished, he forgot why he started,
And, took a swig, pleased with the knowledge imparted.
He sprang to his car, not wanting to do this again,
And away he flew, hoping his breath held no gin
But, I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“If I avoid all the roadblocks, it will be a good night!”
Plaid Hyenas 