The Christmas Ninja

‘Twas the day before Christmas, and poor old Saint Nick

Was lying at home in his bed, very sick.

He sneezed and he coughed and his throat was quite sore.

His temperature rose to one hundred and four!


The doctor said, “Santa, you can’t possibly go

On your sleigh ride tonight in the wind and the snow.

You’re far, far too sick. You must stay in bed.”

“But who will deliver the presents instead?”


Groaned Santa. “It’s Christmas! The girls and the boys

Must wake up tomorrow to a house full of toys!

Someone must load up my jolly old sleigh,

Harness the reindeer, and fly it away.


“Someone must slide down each chimney with care,

And fill up the stockings the kids have hung there.

Someone must place the gifts under the tree.

Who else could do it? It has to be me!”


But the doctor was firm. “You must rest yourself.

We’ll just have to find a substitute elf.”

And so Mrs. Claus and the doctor began

To interview elves, every woman and man.


They had to find a substitute quick

To save Christmas Eve for poor old Saint Nick.

But they soon found out it was no easy task—

There was a big problem with each elf they asked.


Tom couldn’t drive. Dom hated the dark.

Chester could drive, but he just couldn’t park.

Keeley got lonely. Lill always got lost.

Jessamine’s hands turned blue in the frost.


Bree was too little. Bill hated heights.

Mona got scared if a space was too tight.

Waldo Elf liked getting lost in a crowd.

Rock and Roll Elf was much, much too loud.


Giantess Elf was simply too big.


Bulldozer Elf could do nothing but dig.


Mrs. Claus said, “Well, there’s just one person left:

Ninja Elf, who protects us from theft.”


Ninja Elf was a mysterious guy

Who wore a black hood that showed only his eyes.

He listened politely as Mrs. Claus said,

“We need you to fly Santa’s jolly old sled


“And deliver the toys for Christmas tonight.

Can you do it? Will you?” And the elf said, “All right.”

He bowed very low and then sprinted away.

He called the elf workers to load up the sleigh


While he harnessed the reindeer, from Rudolph to Donner.

He had to work fast to save Santa Claus’ honor!

When all was made ready, he jumped to the seat

And urged on the reindeer with their fast flying feet.


They leaped into the air, and the sleigh followed too.

Above the North Pole they galloped and flew.


As fast as a jet they sped into the night,

And in a very few minutes the first house came in sight.


Ninja Elf sprang down very nimbly,

And like a black shadow crept down the first chimney.

He carefully listened but did not hear a sound.

He crawled out of the fireplace and then slid around


The wall of each room ‘til he came to the tree.


He unplugged the lights, and in the darkness then he

Pulled all of the presents from his big, black sack.

He arranged them neatly in a pyramid stack,


Then replugged the lights and snuck back toward the door.

Oh no! All the stockings fell down to the floor!

He had to rehang them! But what could he do?

He had no nails, no tape, no glue—


But he did have three shuriken, sharp throwing stars.

He tacked up the stockings and filled them with cars,

And candy, and cute little dolls.

Santa would be proud—he had just decked the halls!


First mission accomplished, he went back to the sleigh,

And they flew off to visit the next house on the way.

No one heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight—

Ninjas don’t shout; they blend into the night.


And that is the story, if you choose to believe,

Of how Ninja Elf went and saved Christmas Eve.

I have told you the tale with these cookies of ginja

To celebrate Santa’s own brave Christmas Ninja.



The Ballad of Mrs. Scrooge

I am married to a cranky old geezer.
You might already know him; his name’s Ebenezer.
When the whole world rings with Christmas spirit,
He says, “Bah, humbug!”–he doesn’t want to hear it.

He doesn’t like “Jingle Bells” or “Silent Night;”
He sneers when he hears about Rudolph’s brave flight.
He completely abhors “The Twelve Days of Christmas,”
And thinks that the Drummer Boy should jump off an isthmus.

He’s allergic to mistletoe, holly, and pine.
He says decorations are a big waste of time.
He simply loathes fruitcake, chestnuts, and eggnog.
We have central heating, so who needs a Yule log?

He thinks holiday shopping is commercialized trumpery,
And hanging lights only helps the electrical company.
He doesn’t believe in ol’ Santa Claus.
Marley’s ghost gave him up as a hopeless, lost cause.

He won’t be visited by the three Christmas ghosts.
He won’t be invited for warm Christmas toasts.
He gags when he sees It’s a Wonderful Life.
Does he like anything? Well, yes—me, his wife.

For me he will sometimes be happy and pleasant.
He bought me a live tree as a surprise Christmas present.
He won’t decorate, but he’ll get down the boxes.
He doesn’t complain about my “Jingle Bell Rockses,”

Or “Joy to the Worlds” or “Oh Holy Nights.”
He lets me hang up all my big Christmas lights.
And come Christmas morning, under the tree,
There’ll be stacks of wrapped presents that he bought for me.

Though it looks like his heart is three sizes too small,
And he doesn’t have holiday spirit at all,
I’m here to affirm that, inside his crab’s shell,
He actually likes Christmas.

A little.

(Don’t tell).