Christmas Every Week: Santa’s Lament
In Arnold Kellett’s poem Santa laments that he is only doing half the job he should be doing.
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'Can't be done!' said old Santa Claus one winter night
'To take gifts to each child on the earth;
Though I'm fully aware that it's proper and right
And worthy of this unique birth.
'On half of the children I lavish my toys
Stockings, pillow-cases, filled fit to burst;
The other half get simply nothing at all
But a helping of hunger and thirst.
'It's not time and transport
I've got magical means:
In two places at once is my style!
A billion visits, all on Christmas Eve,
No problem - and so worth my while.
'It's the money, you see.
I'm short of hard cash;
That's why there's not a fair share;
So the world's better-off see their children's delight,
And the poor see their children's despair.
'Father Christmas, you call me, so caring and kind!
Bright herald of our gracious Lord!
But when millions of children are just left to die
Your Santa's a scandalous fraud!
'So, one of two things: either generously give,
And work till there's no child who starves;
Or pull off my beard, and spare me the shame
Of a Santa who does things by halves!'
