Dear Santa, we’ve a problem here
(Another one, it’s true)
If she’s in bed and locks the doors
Then how will you get through?
The old house had a fireplace
Complete with chimneypot,
But when she said we’d move in here
That’s something she forgot.
I know that’s how you get inside…
It must take quite some luck;
A two-legs of your size and girth?
You really should get stuck.
Do you go down feet first or head?
Or shrink small as a sprite
When you climb down the chimneypots
Each year on Christmas night?
I always try to wait and see,
But think you’ve got my number
Cause every time I fall asleep
And you come while I slumber.
But this year we’ve no chimneypot
No fireplace nor flame.
I worry, though she tells me that
You’ll still come just the same.
The windows will be closed at night,
The keyhole seems too small
To wriggle through with turkey
And a brand new tennis ball.
She says that there are certain things
That always find a way,
Like love and light and Santa Claus
And joy on Christmas Day.
But just in case you’re in a rush
And she’s tucked up in bed…
And if you really can’t get in…
Just leave things in the shed 😉