“What’s Santa’s Little Helper

Doing to that reindeer??

It looks like he’s trying to jump over it,

But he just can’t make it.”

Bart Simpson

I think it was shortly after the Stone Age

When we Cavemen Eds headed northbound

According to our brother, Edvard the Eldest,

That’s where our next adventure would be found

But after many years of wandering aimlessly ever northward

We Eds were starving and freezing in a god-awful frozen land

That’s when we luckily came upon this big fat guy in a red suit

He yelled out, “HO, HO, HO!  You guys need some help, Man!”

So he decided to take us to his home at the frigid North Pole

His lovely old wife fed us and she made us these Elf uniforms

But of course, being old cavemen, we had very few Elfin skills

And we could just never get the hang of all the ancient Elf norms

Old Edvard always just kept dancing around saying he was too cold

And good old Jersey spent a lot of time wrapping presents for himself

But when he started getting overly friendly with Santa’s many reindeer

Old Santa soon proclaimed, “I don’t think you Eds are cut out to be Elves!”

So it wasn’t very long before he loaded the three of us in his old sleigh

And he bought us three southbound tickets on the good old Polar Express

I really do miss those wondrous days we three Eds spent at the North Pole

Good old Mrs. Claus’s scrumptious Christmas cookies were always the best

And Now,

I’d Bet That My Poem,

A Reindeer Named Jersey,

Makes a Lot More Sense,

To Many of You

And Thinking about Mrs. Claus’s

Scrumptious Christmas Cookies,

Is Sure Making Me Feel Real Blue

I Guess I’ll Ask The Little Woman,

To Bake Me at Least a Dozen or Two

©2007, Mr. Pee Wee Ed,

  AKA: The Christmas Cookie Monster