I always have loved Santa
Claus,
And the stories told to me,
How he came down folk's
chimneys,
With gifts each Christmas Eve.
But I admit I've been
confused,
I could not understand,
How a narrow, skinny chimney,
Could
handle such a man.
Fatter and rounder than he was
tall,
It was inconceivable to me,
That he could fit into a chimney,
Not
half as broad as he.
And then when I grew older,
I
grew even more suspicious,
When both my folks confessed to me,
That Santa
was fictitious.
But, as I said, I loved
him,
Though I felt I'd been deceived,
For all those years they
told me,
He brought toys Christmas Eve.
Yet logic seemed to prove,
He
could not perform such acts
Since a chimney was so thin,
And a Santa was
so fat.
I felt I had a mission,
To
prove Santa was not fake,
That somehow I must find out,
Just how he
navigates.
Thus, I did a lot of
research,
And devoted hours of my time,
To in-depth chimney
studies,
Though nothing helpful did I find.
I learned that chimneys do not
change,
In either heat or cold,
They're constant and remain the
same,
And act alike in each household.
So if chimneys aren't
adjustable,
And cannot modify their form,
Then the burden lies with Santa
Claus,
He must be the one transformed.
Thus, one Christmas Eve, I laid in
wait
To see what I could see,
And I saw him on a chimney top,
As real
as real could be.
His arms were hugged about him
tight,
His body, pointed down,
Then like a whirling dervish
spins,
He went round and round and round!
He whirled and twirled and turned
so fast,
He seemed thinner than the chimney's width,
And down he went,
before my eyes,
Proving Santa Claus was not a myth!
Just like a speeding bullet,
He
shot straight down that chimney,
And for a nanosecond,
Fat Santa Claus was
skinny!
Since I soberly observed
this,
And saw him whirling like a top,
I have concluded he is
real,
Whether you agree or not.
I know whereof I
speak,
I know what I have seen,
And Santa Claus is just as
real,
As ghosts on Halloween.
