Something I wrote for Christmas + 1 . . . THE ANCIENT SWAGONEER DRIVER The Old Man With The Bag has come and gone, Sentenced long ago for some terrible wrong, To fly housetop to housetop with heavy pack. Neer seeing glad child, sad crimson Cossack; Doomed to flee the cozy-happy scene of families, Tbaccy yellowed teeth and flying red pajammys Fast leaving human warmth beneath the sleigh, Under fell penalty of days in tenebrous umbrae If he but pause to light his cold pipe What wast made Herr Claus life to be so marred? Did he discreditably invent jokey Christmas cards And so sinfully give rise to Mad Ave shill types, Dulling the feast with poesy from minds pinstriped? Was he mean to the elves, down hard on Mrs. Claus? Drink up all the nog, tread on Rudys tender paws? No, not for these is SC denied the hearthside glow Tis that Santa was Historys original crooked CEO, He who first learned the stock-ings swipe.