Poetry: The Saint

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Three o’clock,

Tick tock, tick tock,

All children sleeping,

In bed like rocks,

For that is best,

That they should rest,

On Christmas Eve,

And safest, lest,

Should Nikolaus find one,

Awaiting fun,

Eyes wide open,

Mind a run,

He’ll take them forth,

To polar North,

To his employ,

To work thenceforth,

For games on shelves,

Aren’t made by elves,

The waking children,

Do build themselves,

The wished for toys,

Of girls and boys,

Who kept asleep,

And made no noise,

And there they’ll stay,

For all the days,

Working hours,

With naught for pay,

And all because,

They defied the Claus,

So tuck in tight,

And obey the laws.