’Twas the afternoon before Christmas,
Matthew stood in the chair near the tree.
He rocked when he leaned to touch branches,
And fell in. $#@&!! Oh, gee.
The artificial tree was broken.
Little Matthew was doing just fine.
We’d have to settle for a real tree,
But all lots were sold out of the pine.
Dad said, “Hey, I know just the right place!”
Soon we were all in the minivan,
Everyone was solemn and silent,
Hoping dad had a really good plan.
Dad pulled into a closed tree lot,
There was one tree leaning near the trash,
We wove it inside all between us.
Dad drove home with a pine tree mustache.