by Rob Walker
Everyone knows of the man who brings toys
For good girls and boys
But few think about the angrier one
The things he hands out aren't very much fun.
He doesn't give presents or treasures or sweets
He hands out entirely different treats
To those who are naughty and ugly and mean
Painful punishment is what is foreseen
He carries no sack made of velveteen red
His is a basket woven instead
of briar, and wicker, and sadness and tears
soaked into its fibers over the years.
Razor sharp horns are on top of his head
and his long pointed tongue is the most brilliant red
Framing his tongue like a great Christmas wreath
Are seven rows deep of pointed white teeth
He's nimble and lithe in spite of his look
He can enter your house with the speed of a crook
Stealing bad children out of their beds
Thrown into his basket atop their wee heads
He whips them with branches
And feeds them barbed wire
So they may never forget the source of his ire
Some kids he returns with sore and wet eyes
The unlucky ones he bakes into pies.
When snow starts to fall in the month December
Children should always do well to remember
The sound up above is most likely hooves.
But who is it up there scratching your roofs?
Is it eight tiny reindeer pulling a sled?
Or is it a monster carrying dread?
So be good all year round free of regrets
And remember the Krampus never forgets