My parents told me when I was a boy,
that they paid Santa for those Christmas toys.
His price was higher then the department stores,
because he delivered he charged so much more.
So it is no wonder, I grew up confused,
about the spirit of giving, you can't win for lose.
As I grew older, I learned what was true.
My parents were poor. What could I do?
As I grew up and had my own boy.
I wanted him to believe Santa gave him the toys.
I would work and save, even go into debt,
just to make sure his Christmas was set.
One Christmas Eve, I had a few brews.
I was playing Santa, and my boy was just two.
I wanted the mood to be just right,
in the hearth there was a fire burning bright.
I opened each box and set up the toys,
for Christmas morning to surprize my boy.
After awhile when all was done,
the pile of cardboard looked like a ton.
I had to get rid of it and not leave a clue.
I thought, "Burn it up", thats what I'd do.
As I piled the cardboard into the fireplace,
while flames jumped out and burned my face.
Soon I heard pops in the chimney flue.
I called 911 what else could I do?
I ran up the stairs and grabbed my little boy.
We rushed by the Christmas tree with all of his toys.
He just took it all in, with a wide eyed stare.
He didn't say anything the fire trucks were all there.
The chimney fire was soon declared dead.
I put my little boy back in his bed.
In the morning our Christmas went fine.
My little boy didn't show a bad sign.
The seasons past and it was that time of year,
when I told my son that Santa's coming was near.
He held my hand and looked in my face,
He said,"Dad, I know how Santa finds our place.
He comes with the firemen, and rides in their trucks.
Otherwise finding us would have to be luck."
I looked at my boy, so sweet in my sight,
and knew I'd have to call in a fire that night.
I knew I couldn't tell him the real truth,
that as a Santa, his Dad was a just a big goof.
So that's how it went for a few years,
a Christmas Eve false alarm to my little boys cheers.