Saturday Morning ~

Poor Santa ~

First he is angry about the what’s been happening in his workshop . . .

It seems the 12 fiddlers fiddling have all come down with some kind of disease from fiddling with the 10 ladies dancing,

The 11 lords leaping may have gotten pregnant the 8 maids a-milking, who obviously weren’t.

And the 9 pipers piping have been arrested for doing weird possibly illegal things to the 7 swans a-swimming.

The 6 geese a-laying are, but it’s not eggs, it’s the 3 French hens,

The 4 calling birds, 2 turtle doves, and that partridge in the pear tree are having their own little nasty party.

And nobody can find the 5 gold rings.

Then – to make matters worse:

Not were there problems with the lords, ladies, geese and all…he was really angry because the elves were threatening to go on strike over tea breaks.

Mrs. Claus was beginning to show signs of PMS – and was continually complaining about the dirty laundry he leaves her every year.

The reindeer had gotten into the sour mash, and Rudolf was trying to sober them up to be ready to fly.

And to top everything else – the angel Santa had sent out to get the last Christmas tree to be delivered STILL hadn’t returned, and it had been over 4 hours.

Finally – the angel returned dragging the most bedraggled tree Santa could ever even imagine…stopped in the doorway and said: “Hey, fat man … where do you want me to put this thing?”

And thus was born the tradition of the angel on the tree top.

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