Last night as I lay on my soft pillow sleeping,
I dreamt I saw Santa and his elvin throng;
My free spirit soared over perilous snowdrifts,
Blown, as it were, by the wind of a song.
I flew over mountains and ice covered waters,
To finally arrive at his snowy north home;
Then Mrs. Claus whispered (in my unseen presence),
Words of dismay that this hour had come.
Together they hastened to a room that was chilly,
That in those early hours was noiseless and hushed;
And there they stood trembling as he (in red P Js),
Admired the beard he'd so lovingly brushed.
With eyes fixed and wild, he set out to destroy it,
Yes, even though Mrs. Claus rose to declare:
That the kids would forsake him if he had no longer
That mark of distinction that gave him such flair.
Alas, she was helpless, as his courage strengthened,
And for the last time she did make her demands;
But, fate was impending, he rejoiced and was eager,
Then fastened the razor with bolts to his hands.
He then raised his arms and with renewed courage,
He swiftly set out on his errand of woe;
He got not a scratch - even though he was shaking,
And emerged as a stranger, someone he once knew!
Then sapped of his strength this jolly old fellow,
Held his breath as he viewed the new freshness of youth;
And much to the surprise of this bare faced Santa,
Mrs. Claus loved the new look - that's the truth!
I awoke to the sounds of the birds sweetly singing,
Beside my dear teddy who was still lost in sleep;
And I laughed when I thought of that dream about Santa,
Shaving his beard while behind curtains I peeped.