When Santa Died! Poem by Burt Poole

Twas the night before Christmas and
our spirits were high,
As we thought about Santa, soon to
ride ‘cross the sky.
In our minds we could see him so
jolly and stout,
A big bag on his shoulder and that
ho-ho-ho shout!
But then something happened that
turned joy into dread,
Our Daddy announced that dear Santa
was dead!
I couldn’t believe him, it blasted
my brain,
And then we were told, “Santa died on
a train”.
It was wrecked on a mountain as it
sped on its way,
To deliver the presents before it
was day.
Christmas morn I believed it; I’ll
admit it was shocking—
All I found was an orange in the
toe of my stocking.
No toys and no candy, no games and
no ball;
But we did have each other, twas
The Best Gift of all!