Mall Santa

I've been a waitress, clerk, and cook,

This year I even wrote a book.

But there's a job that's worse than all-

To be a Santa in a mall.

I cannot fathom how they smile

When on their lap each screaming child

Is wiggling, peeing, calling names.

These guys will never be the same!

They're getting paid but minimum wage.

They'll leave feeling more than twice their age.

And even in their sleep they'll know

The heartiest way to Ho ho ho!

I pity them and wish them well.

I'd personally rather opt for hell.

But Santas everywhere take heed--

You're sure as heck a sturdy breed

Not anyone could stand the pain,

The yells and screams of pure disdain,

Of little ones who want it all,

From Santas sitting in a mall.

At Christmas time they usher cheer-

Grant wishes that throughout the year

Have kept the children in the throes

Of good behavior, and it shows--

As one by one they take a turn

To list the things for which they yearn.

And tug his beard and tweak his nose--

That Santa with the great repose.

No, never would I want the job.

I'd sooner do hits for the Mob.

I'd clean the dung from cattle stalls

But I wouldn't be Santa at the mall!