| Muses Review Mark Stellinga Sample Poems |
| Sample 1: The Window Seat While sailing through a cloudy sky, with a blank and thoughtless glance, I just caught sight of a real old house, so brief, and quite by chance! I?d seen enough to know that it was large, and very grand, A place that I would love to see, I couldn?t wait to land. I hailed a cab and told the guy, [you should have seen his face] ?Hey, just before we landed, I saw this awesome place. I sure would love to find it, I know it can?t be far!? He smiled and said, ?I think you?re better off to rent a car! She is a thing of beauty, though she looks a little tough. You saw a ?painted lady?, it?s a diamond in the rough. They say she?s been abandoned, and they say there are no more?. I leaned into the window, as I closed his taxi door, He told me how to get there, then he bid me, ?Best of luck.? I thanked him for the info, and I made him take a buck. My conference was tomorrow, so the time to go was now. I had the means to get there, and now that I knew how, I felt that I just had to go, my mind was racing fast. My destiny was just about to tie me to the past. Lurking deep within the trees, I might have driven by, But tiny twinklings slipped into the corner of my eye, As, like a guiding star, she beckoned, so I wouldn?t pass, And thus was I attracted, by her sparkling beveled glass. At last the woods were broken by a massive iron gate. It stood ajar, I parked the car, and headed toward my fate. I walked through nearly 90 feet of old but healthy trees before, at last, I stepped into a world one rarely sees! There she stood, surrounded by great walls of oak and pine. And right away I knew somehow, I had to make her mine. Before the porch I scanned the beveled glass and paneled door. Behind her stained glass windows I imagined so much more. Yes, truly this was what for many years my heart had yearned, And so I checked the knob, and, yes, to my delight, it turned. I just was not prepared for what I saw within those walls. Paintings clad with gilded frames still lined the stately halls! Deep within the foyer stood a pair of figural lights Perched on matching newel posts, the staircase rose four flights. With transomed archways hovering over sprawling parquet floors, Through richly carved and smoothly sliding, massive pocket doors, I slipped into the parlor, what a sofa, what a chair! The scent of candle, freshly doused, still seemed to fill the air! And there, beneath her stained glass jewels, to make the room complete, A velvet covered cushion filled her stunning ?window seat?! I found the kitchen, old wood stove, a four-door oak ice box. In every room were poised her fancy carved, though silent, clocks! Coffered ceilings, marble hearths, and all the hardware, brass! The gilded chandeliers were huge, some kerosene, some gas! The papered walls were elegant, the tapestries were bold, The casing round the windows brightly trimmed with antique gold! The ceilings had to be twelve feet, with murals still so clear. The velvet drapes, so lustrous, hmmm, could someone still be here? The organ wasn?t dusty, and my mind could hear it play. Despite the tale the cabbie told, it seemed like, yet today, There WAS somebody living here, and that would make me sick. When suddenly, I heard a noise that sounded like a ?tick?! And then I heard another ?tick?, and then a little ?tock?! Could, dear God, there somehow be, an actual RUNNING clock? I?d assumed the smell of candles freshly doused was in my mind, and prayed the ticking must have been just ?creaking? of some kind, But when the organs? pedals started pumping by themselves, and I was serenaded, while the candles on the shelves and all the lamps and chandeliers began to light and burn, whatever?s on the upper floors I know I?ll never learn! I left my ?dream house? rather fast, I didn?t close the door. I won?t be back to visit, and will dream of one no more! I?m even thinking, when I fly, what used to seem a ?treat?, today has no appeal, and you can have that ?window seat?! Print - Close Window -------------------------------------------- Sample 2 ?Old Babe? Hey, did I ever tell you 'bout the greatest baseball game, or should I say, the one that gave "Old Babe" his famous name? Like several other great ones, there were many hits that day, and, if it hadn't ended like it did, I'd have to say nothing really super happened, but talk about suspense, you ever seen a coach put SEVEN fielders on the fence? Both teams were scoring runs at will, the errors, very few, and after 14 innings, they were tied at 22! The top of fifteen saw more hits, the third out didn't arrive 'till ten went up, two were left, and the Reds had picked up five. The Yank that batted first was walked. The next flied out to right. The next guy bunts, now two are on, a close call, but not quite. Now time is called, and to the mound, out waddles old coach Jones. The bullpen hummed with forks and spits, the bleachers oozed with groans. The Reds had traded FOUR for ONE to sign their new "Big Gun"! He'd finished forty ballgames, no walks, no hits, no runs! Then sure enough, the signal came, as Jonsey whirled around, and the "million-bucks-a-minute-man" came charging to the mound. The half a dozen warm up shots were clocked at one-o-eight, when the next Yank, hitting .415, digs in beside the plate. So the kid winds up, the cannon roars, the umpire growls his call, "Take your base!" On his first pitch, he nicks him with the ball! Well now the Yanks decide to let their hottest man pinch hit. He struts out to the batters? box. ?Big Gun? just smiled and spit. But, despite the great delivery, his wind-up takes too long. The "squeeze" is tried, a run is scored, the Yanks can do no wrong. With a triple steal, first is empty, the batter takes "ball one". So Big Gun gives the ump a glare, and cocks his awesome gun, The next three pitches gave new meaning to the old term, "smoke"! The first two cracked the bats, on fouls. The third one, well, it broke, but not the bat, the "pitch", and Big Gun grinned and waved good-bye....... With two men on and two men out, it was time to "do, or die"! The next Yank looked at 4 before he got the old green light. With 3 and 1, he ripped one foul, then took one high and tight. Now the count was full, and if looks could kill, the glare on Big Gun's face would have dropped the ump as, once again, he bellers, "Take your base"! Now Big Gun?s hit a batter, and he's issued his first walk, and, with the fear of "squeeze" he chokes, and the umpire signals, "balk"! So now the Yanks are down by three, when, on the emerald turf walks one of New York's sluggers, it?s the man they call "Big Murph". By this time Jonsey wanted to believe their luck was gone, but thought he'd play the odds and hollered, ?Big Gun, put him on?. The fans of both teams liked the way the strategies were done. It looked as though, no matter what, the game would soon be won. The Red's Big Gun had struck out 91 of 94, but he had never pitched a ball to big Old Babe before. In situations like this one, Old Babe was hitting great. With runners on, his average loomed at .738! Because the wind was strong that day and mostly blowing in, Jonsey made a move you'll prob'ly never see again. He took all seven fielders, and he nailed them to the fence! And though a base hit didn?t hurt, it really made no sense. But nothing 'bout this game made sense, and when you've heard the rest, you'll know, of all the games to date, why this one was the best. Old Babe just twisted in his spikes, then found the Big Gun's eyes. The Yankee fans went crazy when they saw the old bat rise. He pointed straight to center field, then, with a tiny grin, he nodded at Big Gun and said, "Come on boy, bring 'er in"! Now bear in mind, they're down by three, a "grand slam" wins the game, and everybody knows how Old Babe earned his hallowed name. So Big Gun throws a knuckle ball, Old Babe didn't even flinch. The next one curved pret' near four feet, but missed pret' near one inch. The count was even, one and one, when Big Gun hurled the next, the darn thing caught the corner, Old Babe's muscles sort of flexed! At one and two, the Big Gun threw two garbage balls, down low. The runners sneaked off just a bit and dug in hard to go. Now Old Babe showed the patience of a wise and crafty fox. He tapped the plate, and once again, stood poised within the box. Big Gun squeezed the rosin bag and waited for the sign, The catcher pounded in his mit and roared out, "one-o-nine"! A radar gun could not have clocked that record breaking pitch. They say it left an imprint of the baseballs? crimson stitch, not within the catcher's mit, but on the slugger's BAT! And to this very day, nobody knows where that ball's at! Now some old fans who saw the game that crazy summer day, will still look up and search the sky, you ask them why, they'll say, "Of all the home runs Old Babe hit, the one that won this game?s the only one they?ve never found, and in the Hall of Fame, The picture shows the field that day, it shows the slugger?s bat, And all the fans all looking UP, but what they?re looking AT, It seems has never come back down, but if it ever does, It surely represents the greatest hit there ever was??? -------------------------------------------------- Sample 3: The Hustle Well grab yourself a seat along the bar and have a beer, you won't believe the story that you're about to hear. It all began at the bar that night, I don't recall the year, but this is how it happened, and, yes, it happened here. Behind the bar the barmaid scanned the booths for needed drinks, when, all at once, into the room this stealthy figure slinks. He slowly saunters through the joint, he gives the maid a glance, for sixty seconds, nothing moves, the place is in a trance. He pauses by the jukebox, where the tiny colored lights, for just a moment danced upon his blinding pearly whites. He squinted through the darkness, then slipped off his tattered cloak, swept back his tousled silver hair with one hypnotic stroke, Then strolled across the room to where the old pool table stood, and tapped his fingers gently on the scarred but pretty wood. Don't know what made me do it, the place was packed that night, but as he plucked that cue ball from beneath the smoky light, From somewhere deep within my soul the haunting challenge came. They say I said, "Hey, rack 'em up, if you wanna shoot a game!" He said, "O. K., but just for fun", as he racked, then grabbed a stool. Then added, "Take it easy, I've played very little pool!" I pulled a damn good house cue off the wall and grabbed some chalk. I dusted down the tip real hard and watched him like a hawk. I'm not sure why the crowd had gathered near to watch us play, but someone yelled, "So bust 'em, if you got no more to say!" When, as I leaned to break 'em, in the corner of my eye, I saw the ivory fingers, and I felt my throat go dry. I stared for just a moment at the worn and lifeless fist. I'd heard the tale, but always thought the man did not exist. I slowly raised my head until I saw his chiseled face. His eyes were old, but crystal clear, though smoke now filled the place. But as I pondered who he was, another guy yelled, "Break"! And so the game began and you could feel that table shake. But, when the last small spheroid came to rest upon the slate, not ONE damn ball was down and now MY turn had come to wait. He slithers to the cue rack and he grabs an old house stick. Then turns to me and asks, "I guess this means I get to pick?" "Yeah, that's the way it's played", I said, "now show us what ya' got", but don't forget that, when you miss, I only need one shot!" Then, with his wooden weapon poised upon that ivory fist, "You've HAD your shot", he softly said, "cause I have never missed!" With whittled ivory fingers nestled 'neath the powdered tip, his stroke was soft and silky with a firm but gentle grip. "The five ball in the corner", was the first I heard him call. The crowd had gone dead quiet, as I watched the first one fall. The cue ball found the seven, frozen tight, and knocked it loose. I'd broken well, the rest were out, as I heard him mumble, "Deuce." The two fell hard, I saw the old man's eyes, well, kinda squint. The tip had fallen off his cue, and God, that thing was bent! Then a tiny grin began to crawl across his face, he pointed at a corner pocket, "Guess I'll play the ace." But then it happened, "whitie" gave the nine this little kiss, and there he stood, not one good shot, if he was gonna miss, The time had come, so I said smartly, "What's it gonna be?" He slowly raised his head, he found my face, and said to me, "Would you like to lay a little money on the line?" I glanced back at the table, he was snookered on the nine! "You're on", I quipped, and then, though why, I'll never understand, I glared into his gentle eyes and said, "How 'bout a GRAND?" The crowd drew down around us tight, the bar-keep killed the box. The old man scanned the room and found this flashy little fox. "Would you please hold the money?" were the only words he said. Then something deep inside me told me, I was good as dead. He counted out a thousand bucks, then gave it to the chick. I glanced back at the table, at his bent and tipless stick. "Your money, friend", he taunted, so I matched the emerald wad. "Now, let's see you get out of this," I sneered, and gave the lay a nod..... "Seven, in the side, five rails", was all the old man said. The damn thing went so easy you'd have sworn the shot was dead!! His leave was great for anything, but the best shot was the six, and I remember noticing, no matter what he picks, The leave is automatic, and before the six had dropped, he was stroking on the three, and as the cue ball stopped, He drilled it in the side, then drew it back to nail the four, in less than fifteen seconds he had run to just one more..... The eight was sitting lonely on the corner pocket lip. With nothing lying in the way, he let the old cue slip. The crowd of people roared, though they were s'posed to be MY friends. He shook my hand and whispered, "This is how it ALWAYS ends"! I never saw that guy again, and I never caught his name. And, no, I won't forget that night, that face, that fist, that game! ------------------ Sample 4: The Reaper Denied Oh stone of death, I beg thee, relinquish me thy guest. Release but to this specter, the soul beneath thy breast what waits but to be wakened, and taken now, to rest. Mine is thine within thee, unlock to me thy door. Expel that one inside thyself, cast out what thou wouldst store. Such things must be, I caution thee, again stone, I implore. Discover to thy patron, that which lies below this place. That which, now abandoned, finds no refuge 'neath thy base, Witness, only, to the ruin, writ neatly on thy face. This spirit, now in-walled in wood, as well doth thou beseech, "Unchain me stone, for yet there is my destiny to reach. I beg thee, hole, discretely me expose thy hing-ed breech." Thy countenance retained, my word. Would be a simple task. Thy stench and powdered bones remain, thy soul is all I ask. Expel to me thy dormant wind. Oh yield thy mitered mask. My word, sir rock, 'twould fare thee well do bid this sacrifice, Lest, dealt with not, a vengeance, from this specter ye entice, Doth rend thy kingdom vacant now, indeed, a greater price! Now give, I say, what dwelleth here, thou leaveth little time. My requisition echoes as the bells about us chime. Thus now beseeched, shouldst thou deny, twould be thy final crime. Pity thee this ag-ed begger. Why doth thou resist me, block? State thy terms, but trifle not, hear, again, the tower clock. Wilst thou now surrender to me that which I am begging, rock? Silence??? Viper??..! Wouldst thou have me think thee dumb? Think thee all mine threats be empty? Answer stone, thy time hath come. Best thou not invoke the fury of the one thou keepeth from! Once again this specter beckons. Once again the still is broken. Pass thine offering. But a pittance, bid thee now at last thy token. If thou wouldst refuse, deny me, shouldst that note once more be spoken, All here wouldst be cast asunder! Yeah, thine all, so cast asunder! Witness to mine wrath plutonic, no more wouldst thou wait, or wonder, Thou wouldst THEN, release unto me, that which here resideth under. Now again, I do beseech thee, dally not unto the dawn. Shouldst the morn throw shadows new and dew thy marble garden's lawn, Shouldst then I be one soul richer. Shouldst then I be wisely gone! Silence still? Now think thee, stone, for what thou now doth wait. None here 'bout wouldst be thine ally, none wouldst know thy fate. Give but what of thine, is not. Throw open me thy gate. All thine like thee think thee foolish. All thine 'round thee, neatly tribed, Gave what thou hast not the ?Reaper?. Gave, though ne'er so amply bribed, Souls of those whom slept beneath the names upon their face inscribed. Release to me thy spirit tenant, thus his worship couldst begin. Make thee haste, again I caution, lest my scythe reproach thy sin. This one last request, once granted, brings me ne'er to thee again. Now be known to thee, oh viper, lest this be thine hour of doom, T?would such great misfortune meet thee, 'fore this dawn wouldst be to bloom, Save thou shouldst bespeak thy wisdom, save thou gainst to me thy room. Wouldst thou know my wrath, fool guardian, for what here too long hath stayed? Fiend to keep one withered hostage, dupe to save the waste here laid. Know then this, MINE arc-ed ally, feel the cold, relentless blade. Feel, again, my scythe within thee. Know of what I warned, and why. Feel the severed soul escape thee. Hear with me the bells that cry. Taste the tip I feed thy belly. See the pale and frigid sky. Suffer thee the swift incisions left within thy splintered chest. Reap the consequence thou tempted. Loose, at last, to me thy guest! Now, fool stone, thou hath surrendered, that the Reaper doth request. As again the bell doth beckon, so the morn is thus begun. As the dawn the truth exposes, lights the wounds of battle done, I have come, and I have taken. I have gone, and I have won! Print - Close Window ----------------------- Sample Poem 5: The Saga of Margie and Tim We all have known love as a child one time, gazing for hours, whispering in rhyme. So very important, so urgent things seemed, A thought never known, a dream never dreamed. And the wonder and hope in the fragile young eyes of our little romantic, as he desperately sighs, reflects from his face ?neath a full yellow moon, where the eyes of our lover now lay, though he knows that the moon won?t betray him, he finds it has nothing to say. So down on his knees top a pillow he crouches, suspecting a tear and a sigh well in place, the sleepy young beggar repeats his confusion, the light of a candle distorting his face, wide eyed and anxious, a wonder of life, with a small bedroom window to frame. "Margie", he beckons, he feels his heart pounding each time that he whispers her name! Then gently he leans through the small bedroom window, spilling his curls on the sill, gold in the moonlight, soft in the moonlight, as it drifts through the evening so still. Then neatly arranging his small satin fingers, he nods with a puff to the light. Nobody knows that he peeks while he's praying, for praying with all of his might, he's entirely alone now, no moon or a candle bewildering our big little-guy, and when he has finished, expecting an answer, he gazes again at the sky. But only the breeze in the warm air of autumn, so gentle and soft to be heard, is witness to what he is searching his heart for, all in that magical word. He sits without moving, though nothing before him will capture the answer for which he must search. Though he knows that adrift on the winds of the evening the answer is out there, he falls from his perch to the arms of the sandman at the edge of his bed, and has no more than whispered his prayer, when all of a sudden, from out of the stars, on the warmest and sweetest of air, sails the faintest of murmurs, and he thinks he has heard her, so embracing the moon with a glance, he expectantly leans from his window and searches, hoping for only a chance, a chance to be certain, to know she is calling, to know she is calling for, "Tim". Now he stares at the moon and cries "Margie, I love you!" He is sure she is calling to him. But it's late. There are stars all around him. He's confused. Though he's happy, he weeps. He curls up with a smile, though he sniffles a while, and he drifts with his dream, as he sleeps. Print - Close Window ---------------- Sample 6: Old Friends We simultaneously recognized the man was very frail. His weary eyes were tired, though clear, his skin was thin and pale. Our interrupted business soon was made aware of ?why?, This weak and feeble gentleman had come to say, ?Goodbye?. I felt a strong relationship that went back many years. I saw the understanding smiles, their eyes welled up with tears. This man had stopped to celebrate a friendship long and true, And spend his farewell moments sharing thoughts, as old friends do. The soft and trembling words he spoke, they made me understand, This would be the last time this old man would shake his hand. ?So, how the heck ya? been, my friend?? was all I heard him say. Then I excused myself and said, ?I?ll just be on my way.? I knew they needed time alone, a chance to reminisce, and headed out the door to give the two some time for this. I tried hard to imagine just what types of things they?d say, As both men knew, most likely, this would be his final day. I think about that day a lot, about the way he walked, So crippled up and shaky, and the breathy way he talked. It struck me hard the way he was, the way it had to end, But most of all, I won?t forget the way he loved his friend! Print - Close Window -------------------------------- Sample 7: First Fish With Gramps I didn?t even know about the trip we were to make. It was the first adventure that old Gramps and I would take. I can?t forget the way it felt when I first saw ?the lake?! The sunrise made the water seem a blinding sheet of brass. ?My boy?, said Gramps, ?today we?re gonna catch ourselves some bass!? then headed for the boat with 2 old rods, some bait, and gas. He yanked the old boat motor, then through off the weathered rope. I asked, ?Hey Gramps, want me to drive?? He smiled and chuckled, ?Nope! ?Well, maybe once we?re out a ways.? My heart went wild with hope! Whenever Gramps said, ?maybe?, I would usually get my wish, And as we felt the morning breeze, so soft, so clean, so fresh, I said a secret prayer that we would catch ?a ton of fish!? A good ways out at last he asked me, ?Son, you wanna steer?? I climbed up on his lap and he could sense a trace of fear. He hugged me close to strengthen me, his love was very clear. There?s nothin? to it, young man, just take ?er nice and slow, You see that old dead tree right there, that?s where we wanna go!? There are so many reasons why I loved my Grandpa so. He helped me cast a line in, then he said, ?Be very still, Remember there?s no hurry, boy, we?ve got all day to kill, You?re here to catch a big old fish, I promise you, you WILL!? I sat there like a statue, and he whispered soft to me, ?You?re gonna catch a BIG one, you just wait and see!? And to this day there?s no place in the world I?d rather be. It wasn?t long before that shiny bobber starts to dance, At first it sort of hypnotized me, I was in a trance, Then Gramps, he hollers, ?Yank ?er son!? I knew this was my chance. The bobber dove down in the lake, my heart was pounding fast. The fight was on and I just prayed that, somehow, I could last. Gramps slid near to help and said, ?You sure know where to cast! Now careful, son, if he?s too big the boat just might upset!? Then warmly chuckled, ?He?s a big one??? better use the net! Holy cow, now that might be the best we ever get!? I just could not believe my eyes, the fish was REALLY BIG! ?If you can land a fish like THIS?, Gramps said, ?then I will dig my very finest lure out of the box, my ?lucky jig!?? Now Grandpa?s ?lucky jig? was one that he would never loan! He always said, ?This here?s the very best jig that I own!? And I am still the only one that I have ever known Who got to use his ?lucky jig?, that was a special day. And now it?s mine, and it gets used, and in the same old way, ?Cause I remember Grandpa?s words, ?This jig aint for display! It?s meant for fishin?, don?t forget, it?s meant for havin? fun, And if it?s still around when your old Grampas? fishin?s done, Then it will go to you because I love you so, my son.? We sat beneath that tree for hours, it was his favorite nook. That was where he taught me how to tie and bait a hook. It never mattered what we caught, or just how long it took. I always throw a line there, it?s still my favorite place. I pray all folks with ?little ones? can slip out of ?the race? and get the chance to see the look that Gramps saw on my face. Today, what seemed a lake, is but a pond, so very small. I s?pect that ?monster fish? I caught was not so big at all! But that first fish with Gramps is still my favorite to recall. Print - Close Window ------------------------------------------------------------- Sample 8: The Salesman A couple weeks ago today, while I was sleeping in, And lay so very unprepared to have the day begin, I thought I heard the doorbell ring and slightly twitched my head, I hoped I had imagined it and I could stay in bed. But, no, I heard it ring again, and then it rang once more, And there was no one home but me to rise and get the door. I donned a pair of sweatpants, then a t-shirt and some socks And hobbled for the foyer where I fumbled for the locks. By now I had been mumbling to myself, ?Who could it be?? I feared some unsuspecting fool was just about to see The most perturbed, vindictive dude that they had ever met. I knew that I was on the edge of blowing up, and yet, Somewhere from my inner soul I felt a soothing grip. I took a breath to calm myself and, biting on my lip, I slowly turned the deadbolt then stepped back to swing the door. The person standing on my porch, I couldn?t have hated more! It was a traveling salesman, with a suitcase in his hand! I glared at him, but it was clear, he did not understand. And long before I had a chance to say a single word He had pitched the biggest pile of crap I?d ever heard! He stood there like a robot, with a grin from ear to ear, Claiming that he needed only one more sale this year And he would be the winner of a really super prize. I stood there stifling curse words thinking, ?most of these are lies!? I tried to hide the great contempt I felt as best I could, But knew that what he could not see, before too long, he would! My mind was racing wild with rage, how could I get revenge? I then I thought, I?ve got it, I?ll just feign a ?buying binge?! ?Well come on in?, I chuckled, ?real nice day?, the man agreed, ?I?m sure you?ll have a lot of things a guy like me will need. Would you care for coffee, or a soft drink, or some wine? I just got my tax refund, I?d love to see your line. I?ll need gifts for grandchildren, my nieces, nephews, friends. The list of those I need to buy for, it just never ends! This could be the biggest order you have ever had! I think that you are going to need your very biggest pad! Do you have a limit on what just one man can buy?? With these words the look upon his face ?bout made me die! ?Not at all?, he beamed, then said, ?looks like I?ll get my prize!? He still had not perceived the vengeance hidden in my eyes. I hope you?ll let me tip you, and I always pay in cash! When can I expect the goods, [I wanted to say ?trash?.] ?Oh, we don?t send away?, he said, ?we make them in our shop. We work a week or two and then the bunch of us will stop And try to sell them door-to-door, that keeps our prices low. It?s all we can afford to do, and you will never know How much we do appreciate your looking at our things And how much joy and happiness the money from them brings. And, I will win the yearly prize, for he who does the best Gets an extra special hug and kiss from all the rest!? He opened up his suitcase and displayed some hand made toys. ?Everything I have was made by little girls and boys. They?re not perfect, some are flawed, but like the toys, they?re mine! And you will never see a frown on our assembly line.? I just sat there reeling from the anger I had felt. Warmed by what he?d said I grabbed the chance that I?d been dealt. ?Give 5 of EVERYTHING?, I said, ?no, make that TEN!? And though I am a bachelor, and I have no younger kin, The salesman was to never know, as on his way he went. And that is still the wisest money I have ever spent. Print - Close Window ---------------------------------------- Sample 9 A Special Christmas A little hug and kiss for Tim, and off to bed he scoots. He lies in bed and listens close, for prancing hooves, and boots. While Daddy scatters pretty presents ?round the Christmas tree, And grins to think how thrilled their little guy is gonna be. He won?t be getting everything he asked for on his list, But with the most important one, the others won?t be missed. He?s getting his first puppy dog, last year he got a cat. He starts to school next year you see, and he was thinking that, ?Kitty? might get lonely while he studied hard each day, And Mom and Dad would both be gone, so how would ?Kitty? play? Then Daddy winks at Mommy, and she blushes back at him. Their gift to one another is a brand new friend for Tim! This Christmas eve their home will hear a brand new baby?s voice, And Tim and Mom and Dad will have good reason to rejoice. So ?Kitty?, ?Puppy?, new born babe, and Tim and Mom and Dad, Will surely call THIS Christmas eve, the best they?ve ever had! |
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