Coal in my stocking

coal-in-my-stocking

Coal in the stocking
that’s hung up for me.
Coal in my packages
under the tree.

Coal for my sister
and coal for my brother.
Coal for the baby,
and father and mother.

Santa, it seems, traveled
down from The Pole,
bringing us nothing
but presents of coal.

No one’s been naughty.
We haven’t been whiners.
Santa’s new elves just
all used to be miners.

–Kenn Nesbitt

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