O Christmas is dawning
Sure and sure like the morning
Standing to stake chances and lotto
As the pilgrims sing joyfully on their way to grotto
This Christmas, those who perm must hit a jackpot
After-beaches, parlors and many happiness be sought
Like in the best case scenario,
This Christmas shall open to our jubilee
Leaving traces of smile along
Happy moments mov’n from house to house
Tree to tree, here and there like a pandemic
Incoming visitors, come with Champaign
Get off you red wines, getting me somber
Sparkling bottles and biting whiskies
A glass of lemonade doing ourselves good
If I owe, I will pay this December
That’s the deal, can be broken so remember
cos the clock reads tic toc tic toc like the former
But runs silently this December
This Christmas, expecting the harmattan
Mist and her Decemberly fog
Temperatures Fahrenheit the love for the season
Tis the changing weather with less reason
In a blink, and the northern breeze
The cold, these blankets call for extra
O this Christmas, longings that never cease
Many shall compare with many
And only few shall see the difference; only few
Rest, and dress well, mother hen
This Christmas, keep your cool
We visit the bleating pen
For there is enough, enough wool
Souls with meaning, meaning to life
Only a call, Out of hand, out of sight,
But never out of memory
Get some roses, color this Christmas
Bow’n like Moses, a ceremonial servant
This Christmas goes sightseeing
A toast by the way-side café
Or exclaim
‘’an outing can bring some healing’’
For this Christmas is passing soon
And be replac’d by the dying moon
Is this Christmas about Mary?
Then the occasion is for merry
This Christmas, we shall hold hands with love
Walk’n the streets, each turning a criminal
Criminals the more, but not of law
cos everyone shall steal one look and another
Walk about, go gay and shout
Joy aloud, as boxes and giving abound,
Happiness come all announced
I remain civil
This Christmas, every sleeping eye shall dream
And every dreaming man; let him work
cos all cliffs lower,
Lower like the sower
And when everything is over
We shall hang pictures, and say; goodbye
This Christmas, comes not again