Fred Claus
The little boy was more confused than ever before, Surely a festival must mean something more, What his grandpa said, seemed to make little sense, It seemed like something badly conjured up in defence. So he went back to nagging
To build up the house, card by painstaking card, To prop it up often with every card you can discard, And watch your budding smile come to a freeze, When the house is toppled by the slightest breeze. The cards