‘Twas a couple of days before Christmas
When the old guys were talking
About how they looked forward
To filling a stocking.
The conversation ran into a wall
When somehow cost became the topic
And no one could recall
What that had to do with the subject.
Through the mumbling and jumbling
And a bit of sputtering, too
The matter at hand came tumbling through,
“It’s Christmas you fools,”
Commented – er, shouted — an old fart,
“Whether its toys or tools,
It should come from your heart.”
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