Garrison Keillor,
Twas Christmas Day in the poorhouse ( Garrison Keillor )
[undocumented]
’Twas Christmas Day in the poorhouse And the cold bare walls of blue Were bright with sprigs of holly Sent by the well-to-do Who also donated a turkey, Cranberries, and Parker House rolls, Which delighted the poor ragged wretches Bent over their porcelain bowls. In front stood a plastic snowman And a small aluminum tree The tape deck played Christmas carols Recorded by Donnie and Marie. And each of the paupers was given A gift, at public expense: A bar of soap for the ladies, A bar of soap for the gents. When a geezer looked up from his turkey And said to the warden, “Kind sir, Whatever became of Melissa? I’m expecting a visit from her. I haven’t seen her since September And I’m also waiting for Jim, My son who’s a big shot in Dallas, I’m expecting a visit from him.” The Warden turned and with cruel Irony sneered at the man, “Your children are rich and successful And they’re busy — don’t you understand? They’ve dinners to go to and parties, Openings! Benefit balls! Why would they come out to see you In a poorhouse in downtown St. Paul? You’re old and sick and depressing And your conversation’s a bore. You’re frankly not all that attractive, A common fate of the poor. You should have thought of this sooner Back in your prime earning years And hoarded your dough, but instead You went in hock up to your ears.” When we’re ancient and stiff and crabby, Our relatives quickly forget us, So listen to me, young people, And work hard and save up your lettuce. Get your books at the Salvation Army Buy all your clothing at Sears Take buses wherever you’re going Live with your parents for years. Don’t marry and do not have children, Drink the $3 rosé. Collect all the pats of butter They bring you at the café. Invest in blue chips and municipals And avoid technology stocks And never put money in the basket, The collection plate or the poorbox. And when you are old and senile And you think that your niece is your aunt, My friends, you’ll be rolling in money, You’ll have all the money you want. (c) 2000 by Garrison Keillor
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