Twas all but a dream
We’ve helped my mother in-law decorate her lawn for Christmas for the last several years. This year she did it by herself because her children and children in-laws were busy (and we’re a little lazy.) Anyway, I’ve always written new lyrics to a traditional Christmas song to describe hanging lights and decorating but this year i wanted to try something different. I used the poem "Twas the Night before Christmas" with new words to create this week’s column.
Please remember, no mother in-law’s feelings were damaged in this production.
Twas All but a Dream
Twas’ a Saturday last week-end, a time to string lights,
A Mother Walseth Christmas, an event that tests might.
We would work like illegals, under J Walseths direction,
Creating Christmas fantastic, with electrical connection.
Lisa and I snuggled. me driving her Blazer.
Soon a days memories, would need some erasure.
Lisa wore her best kerchief, I a stocking cap,
Resigned to tree trimming, instead of our nap.
From under the hood, there arose such a clatter,
I begged, “Lisa, brave the cold-see what is the matter.”
Into the cold, Lisa flew like a flash,
She effected repair, thereby saving us cash.
The ice on the road from the new fallen snow,
Made me question if to Jeanette’s, we really must go.
When what to my wondering mind should disturb,
A surprising scene, as we pulled to her curb.
Jeanette had done all of the work by herself,
She’d been very productive, like a white-haired elf.
More rapid than an eagle, Jeanette’s really got game,
But she added, she missed us, and calling us names.
“Now Granster, you slacker!” “Now Lisa and Miss T.”
“Get working! work harder! You’re all worthless and weak!”
Put the lights on the porch, put the lights on the wall!
Power’s made me insane, now I command all!
As leaders sometimes find, after loss of position,
The true enjoyment of a task, is in it’s commission.
So up to the task, Jeanette had now risen,
Found the lights from the rafter, some once even missin’.
And then in a twinkling, she’d climbed on the roof,
A 4/12 pitch, she trimmed quickly, then POOF!
Trimming lilacs was tough; such height, such breadth!
This year they’d been easy, the city’d hacked them to death.
Jeanette dressed all in fur, from her head to her boot,
Avoiding nasty frost bite, in 2001, took my foot.
A bundle of joy, she gave all spectators,
But this year we’d no Klub, which is made from fresh Tater’s.
Her eye’s-they were cloudy! (Cataracts from the cold,)
She said, “I’ve an idea, it’s simple yet bold!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
“Let’s tear this stuff down, and throw it in the snow.”
The stump of a cigar, she held tight in her mouth,
“Once again, I’ll command, like a General of the South.”
A maniacal grin came upon her sweet face,
“you’ll redecorate my house! Or feel my whip’s embrace!”
I’d seen this change before, from this jolly old elf,
I threw Lisa the keys, and said “save yourself!”
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Informed me I’d have to put all that crap back up, causing me dread.
Suddenly I shook, then woke myself up.
I was safe in my bed; not on a ladder in the back of a truck.
Then laying a finger aside my own nose,
I found Kleenex, to give it a blow.
I’d cleared out my head, my stuffed nose no longer whistled,
Then back to my reveries, about flowers and not thistles.
A Christmas disturbing, like I never had seen,
The good thing was that, Twas all but a dream