Bleak House

Hard Times, a Christmas Carol

The children stop in mute dismay,
Choke back their shrieks of glee
And stare in dumbstruck horror
At the space beneath the tree,
Seeing naught but mounds of offal
Where there ought to be a Wii.

O! Dry your eyes my precious ones!
Nay, do not blubber so.
The newly poor must look for Gifts
More deep than outward show.
Content yourselves with abstract stuff
Like Peace and Love. Ho ho!

God rest ye merry.

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