Twas the night before the Fourth Sunday of Advent,
Somehow, it just isn’t as memorable as The Night Before Christmas
and all through the house,
Blatant plagiarism.
all the children were stirring,
Stark contrast.
for Mom was baking fudge.
I know it doesn’t rhyme!
The stock market was hung; the pundits were scared,
Ain’t that the truth?
Hoping that retailers well they would fare.
A miracle, anyone?
The children were humming Messiah by Handel,
HA-le-lu-ia! HA-le-lu-ia!
Anxious to light all four Advent wreath candles.
There’s still one more Sunday between now and Christmas.
And I in my slippers and Ma in her apron,
No one wears a kerchif or cap indoors these days.
Had just settled down on the couch for a movie
Can you come up with a word to rhyme with apron?
When out on the driveway there arose such a clamor,
Oooo-EEE–Oooo-EEE
I knew my neighbor’s car alarm was on the fritz again.
beep, beep
The moon on the pavement of concrete fresh-poured,
How romantic.
Gave a dull, wan, pale luster like a 2 by 4 board.
See, I do know how to rhyme. 😀
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
More blatant plagiarism.
But a sand gravel truck and a tractor by Deere.
Kubota doesn’t rhyme…sorry.
With a nondescript driver heroic and brave,
I knew in a moment the children would wave.
Children love tractors!
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the potholes with asphalt and soot.
Did we miss something here? We’re mixing our verse.
And laying a kleenex over his nose,
And taking a breath, into his hankie he snoze.
Sneezed?
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight–
“Happy 4th Sunday of Advent to all! Rorate! Good night!”