The Death Of Santa Claus

Vincent Starrett

It was the night before the famous day
When that befell of which I write. The house
Was silent as the dark: nor man nor mouse
Stirred anywhere. The weary children lay
Asleep upstairs, their stockings, after play,
Were hung beside the fire, with Mama’s blouse;
While, meditating on the morrow’s grouse,
I must have dozed my errant wits away.

At any rate, I had a curious dream
In which a little whiskered gnome in red
Came down the chimney with a set of Tennyson,
And perished in the flames. One tiny scream
And he was gone like wax or melted lead....
But for some weeks thereafter we had venison.

 Back to Vincent Starrett

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.

  • noebundy92

    Just read a Vincent Starrett piece and huh, kinda gave me goosebumps. Didn't expect Santa to go that way - pretty gruesome. Yet, it has a certain dark humor in the storytelling. Would never show this to my kids tho, don't wanna ruin Christmas for them. Bit surprised with the venison bit at the end. Odd poem, but still intriguing somehow.