The poem begins:
‘Twas the Sunday pre-Christmas, and all through the church,
On the laps of their parents the children did perch.
All sitting agog in great anticipation
Of the visiting preacher’s pre-sermon oration.
(For this was a place where the children receive
Their own little talk and then promptly they leave,
And the preacher is left with a half-congregation –
But that’s not my point in today’s proclamation.)
And so I began to compare and contrast
With an image I hoped would be sure to stick fast,
Between God and his goodness in giving his Son
And the myth of the Chubby and Red-Suited One.
I imagine this was the look on the kid’s faces when he told them Santa wasn’t real: