(With Apologies To The Late Dr. Seuss In Advance.)

Everyone down in Faithville liked Christmas a lot,

But Mr. Pinch, who lived just north of town, did not.

Mr. Pinch hated Christmas, the whole festive season.

Now I'm not sure, haven't an exact clue as to the reason.

It could be his studded earring was a wee too tight.

Perhaps it was because he had a youthful dream fright?

Still, the most likely reason of all,

Was that his heart was as dead as a masonry wall.

He was a hard man, that stately Mr. Pinch.

So stern and firm as to make an unrepentant Scrooge flinch.

Every Christmas eve, he would grumble and grumble,

About those churchgoers, sickly sweet and seemingly humble.

Giving and giving presents one to another,

Mother, sister, in-laws, outlaws and brothers.

Packages, boxes and bags.

Papers, ribbons and tags.

From Mr. Pinch's back porch through the windows he could see,

Colorful Christmas lights on his neighbors evergreen trees.

Stockings, he knew, soon would be hung with care,

And carolers would trod in fashionable footwear.

Singing some dreary, cheery song.

Oh, how Mr. Pinch wished he were wrong.

Mr. Pinch's mind flashed to children snuggled in beds,

And those wretched noisy toys Santa'd take from his sled.

Oh, the toys, toys, toys, toys!

For curly haired girls and troublesome boys.

Mr. Pinch wanted to end this holiday right then and there,

He needed a wonderful, awful idea, but from where?

And you know, that old Mr. Pinch, reasoned a neat trick,

He'd steal all those toys, wouldn't that be slick?

So he dressed as Santa and dashed at midnight through town,

Stealing all the Christmas gifts he could find all around.

Without gifts to open, he thought,

Christmas this year would not be bought.

People will turn angry to one another,

Shouting and cursing brother to sister and daughter to mother.

He slunk down streets, avenues and greens,

Down boulevards and every lane, taking gifts by any means.

No home was untouched, no gift left,

Mr. Pinch threw them into a rented semi, able and deft.

Come sun-up, he pulled over on a hill to hear,

All those children and adults crying, tear after tear.

With hand to ear he waited and waited for the holiday crash,

But Mr. Pinch was the one who got a news flash.

For down at decorated town square,

People of faith had all gathered there.

Oh, Holy Night, Joy To The World, Away In A Manger, they sang,

As the landmark clock in celebration clang and clang.

Christmas, despite his best efforts, had come.

Boy, Mr. Pinch began to think to himself, I sure am dumb.

It wasn't about board games, sweaters, DVDs, gizmos or a tree,

But rather, about something not from a store, but is free.

The baby in the manger, he now understood, was the reason,

For the real joy every Christmas season.

Then what happened next, the Faithville folk knew,

Mr. Pinch's dead heart, was alive, and he no longer blue.

The exercise had helped him, done him a favor.

For now Mr. Pinch at last knew The Savior.

He whisked back to town and gave everything back,

Doll houses, action figures and trains with their tracks.

The people were happy to have their gifts but they knew,

They are symbols of God's gift-giving season the year through.

Merry Christmas to you and yours,

From Mr. Pinch and Faithville's ever so joyous shores..