Christmas Carol: The Kitten's Christmas

A good friend of mine has graciously agreed to let me post her wonderful, often hilarious and typically cat-oriented Christmas Carols. (She's a cat person, so cats often are the source of her humor and writing.)

I will be posting her carols now through December--there are several of them.

Please do not copy or use her stuff without permission. And she would love to hear any feedback about her carols. (You can send any feedback to me, if you don't have Blogger permissions to comment this blog, at cganders1@yahoo.com.)

Enjoy!

The Kitten’s Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all were asleep,
when the closet eased open and out kitten leaped.
There she stopped and she stared with her eyes open wide,
at the changes that happened while she was inside.

For a tree stood there now, all surrounded with toys
Hung with garland and tinsel—such kittenish joys.
There were stockings with bells, and balls hung from string,
ribbons and wrapping, such wonderous things.

So she raced to the tree, standing tall by the stair,
with the lights and the ornaments all hanging there.
She paused and she gazed at glass balls shining brightly,
she reached out and touched one (but, really, quite lightly).

Then, quick, up the tree, to the star at the top,
but once she had got there she just couldn’t stop.
She dashed through the tree (which no more did stand straight),
sent the ornaments flying--and some fell to break.

But just as she aimed and got ready to leap,
she heard a strange sound… something dropped in a heap.
There he stood by the fire, a little old man,
and he smiled at the kitten and then waved his hand.

The tree stood back upright, with garlands re-hung,
and those fast swinging ornaments stilled where they swung.
Then he stepped to the side and she saw something more.
For there! Right beside! ...was a bag on the floor!

She ran, quick, down the tree and she leaped ‘cross the room,
to hide there all quiet and small in the gloom.
And then as he turned once again to the tree,
she dashed to the bag and no more could be seen.

And as glass balls were rescued--which had tumbled down
the bag twitched and it tumbled, and rolled all around.
Then he turned to his bag, and he started to laugh,
as he righted the bag and he folded it back.

For there in his bag, tangled all ‘round with ribbon,
as she played with the gifts, was that small happy kitten.
He picked her up gently, set her down on a chair,
reached again to his bag--now safe, by the stair.

And from it he pulled, catnip balls and stuffed mice,
bright feathers, some cat-treats, and other things nice.
And then, just as fast as he first had appeared,
he stepped to the chimney, and just... disappeared.

So at last when the family came down on that morn,
what they saw were the presents--with wrapping untorn.
The stockings still hung and the tinsel shone bright,
with never a sign of what happened that night.

And the kitten just purred, and she never did tell,
That ‘twas Santa who’d saved the tree... just as it fell.
Now each Christmas Eve, she sits still in the night,
and looks at the Christmas tree, shining with lights.

She stays up and she waits, she knows Santa will come,
for it’s her home these days, that is last on his run.
And each Christmas Eve with old Santa she plays,
til at last he must leave, at the first light of day.

Then he leaps in his sleigh, and rides off out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Rachelle Coe