Tis the day after Christmas and all though the house, everybody was scurrying including the spouse.
Stockings were scattered all over the floor, and St. Nick's sooty footprints led out through the door.
The children are frantic and bouncing off walls, tossing 'round sugarplums and shouting cat calls.
Ma with her broom and I with my shovel, shift through the wrapping and dispose of the rubble.
Then out in the yard there arouse a commotion, as to what it could be, I hadn't a notion.
So I ran to the door with my shotgun in hand, expecting a mob, complete with brass band.
I threw open the door and to my eyes did appear, a very large sleigh filled with whiskey and beer,
With a funny old driver, as high as a kite. Putting finger to lips I point to the right,
Toward the windowsill conveniently build just at bar height.
I tip toed to my study, eased open the sash, and toss that sweet driver a handful of cash.
In return he slides toward me bottles and kegs, some being so heavy I've wobbly legs.
I get everything stored without the family aware, of the wonderful New Year awaiting me there.
I'm back in the living room with a smile on my face, as I glance at the litter all over the place.
Ma sets down her broom and asks with a frown , who was outside and what was that sound?
I turn and I snicker so she can not see, my face broadly smiling, my eyes filled with glee.
My composure regained I turn with disdain, and say it was nothing, just a low flying plane.
I glanced out the window, my face all alight, and waved to the driver as he slid out of sight.
That's the end of this story truth be to tell, it was a grand Christmas and the New Year will be swell.