A Christmas Poem

T'was Twelve or Maybe I T'was Eight

T'was the twelfth of December or maybe t'was the eighth

T'is my best Christmas memory, to recite in full length

Mom, Dad, my sisters and me, climbed in our pickup to go get a tree

We headed as a family to the outskirts of town

T'ward a farm where people could cut a holiday tree down
Dad refused to ask for directions, tho Ma begged him to that night

She clinched her teeth and smiled, saying, "Christmas is no time to fight!"

Dad said, "Not to worry, I know right where we are

See the twinkling light up yonder, honey, why that's the north star!"

We rode 'round for hours, like pickles in a jar

'Till Dad woke us up, with a surprised, "HERE WE ARE!"

T'was twelve o'clock midnight or maybe t'was eight

When we finally found the place and headed in through the gate

We passed a trailer-house-office and Christmas lights that read

"CUT YOUR OWN TREE" light bulbs spelled out and said

My mom and my sisters knew what kind they wanted

A symmetrical tree, and not one that was stunted

There t'was a hill before us that looked just like a face

Two stumps were eyes, and tall trees in the mouths place

Those pines on yonder hill, looked just like a smile

And caught Mom's attention, she told Dad, "That's the style!"

We gathered 'round that grin upon that hill

Ignoring snow and cold winters chill

Chopping and hacking with an ax and saw

We gnawed and we cut but that tree wouldn't fall

My sisters and I grabbed its branches in the middle

And walked in a circle and twisted it out like a thistle

T'was twelve below zero or maybe t'was eight

With a starry nightlight we hauled our tree to that gate

Dad roused a man from the office with a couple of raps and a knock

Who came stumbling down the steps and said, "Ya'll crazy, it's past one o'clock!"

Dad replied politely, "We want to pay for our twenty-four dollar tree."

The man snarled and told us, "The kind that ya'll cut down is one-hundred and three!"

"Did ya'll cut it out from the face of that hill

Or from the grove by the barn or the woods by the mill?"

Dad looked at the hill with a tooth missing grin

And then at us kids whom he'd taught,"lying t'is a sin"

He took out his wallet and gave the man every last dollar

Though he normally pinched bills 'til we heard Washington holler

The man with a sweat-shirt that didn't quite cover his belly

Must 'of seen my sisters shivering in the night that was chilly

He gave us hot cocoa that stung my throat, tongue and nose

With a similar stinging, Jack Frost had done to my fingers and toes

However, I liked the stinging the cocoa did better

Except that sister punched me when I spit it out on her sweater

So, don't get upset if  holiday plans don't work out quite right

My family's worst Christmas t'is my best memory by far

As Mom told us through clinched teeth, while following yonder star

And shared her wisdom on that cold winter night

"Christmas, my children, is no time to fight!"