The world was white, engulfed by snow,
And in a cosy cottage a fire was a-glow.
It spat and it roared in its fiery rage,
As Grandma, in armchair looked down at her page:
A page full of stories new and old,
That she read to the children, shivering cold.
The room it was silent as she told her tales,
Of very evil fairies in make-believe jails.
The words came alive in the crisp winter air
And the children they loved it: they sat, they stare.
As their hearts began to grow with giddy glee
Then grandma said “Come here look with me!”
They looked out the window and up at the sky
And saw the festive light of Santa fly by.
The room came a-buzz with childhood joy,
The small house came alive with excitement from girl and boy
“I hope you’ve been good,” Grandma then said,
But the faces of the children drooped then instead.
They thought they should go and do a good deed
For they weren’t sure if they’d been good, indeed.
“Oh no!” said Grandma, “There’s no need to fear!”
“For there’s room on the nice list for everyone here!”
So when the world is white, engulfed by snow,
And Santa has his toys row upon row,
Be sure you're nice and have a good soul,
For these room on the nice list - and you won’t get any coal.