The Nineteenth Day of Christmas
We made Santa yummy cookies
and he gobbled every bite,
but they tasted so delicious
he returned on Christmas night.
He requested, no, demanded
that one dozen more be fixed
then he vanished when he ate them
but returned the twenty-sixth.
Then he visited us nightly:
“One more dozen!” he’d insist
and made threats if we denied him
we’d be on the naughty list.
It’s the nineteenth day of Christmas
and we’re out of Christmas cheer,
but he keeps requiring cookies
every night when he’ll appear.
So we’re boarding up our chimney
and we’re going to call the cops,
and Saint Nick’s no longer welcome
’till this cookie madness stops.