The Frog Before Xmas . . .

'Twas the night before Christmas, all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
Then, over in the corner, just by the Yuletide log
Next to the sofa, there crouched an old frog

Glancing around him, he looked left and right
The cat awoke glaring, then ran off in fright
With his boots in his hand, he hopped over the floor
Grasping the handle, quickly opening the door

Inside the dark bedroom, a little lad snored
Dreaming of soccer, he smiled as he scored
Ignoring the child, the frog climbed on a shelf
Kicking aside a bright-eyed stuffed elf

Bugger this for a lark, I'm not doing this next year
My bones are arthritic and my eyes not too clear
I hate this suit, these pants are too tight
I won't do it again; it's not dignified or right

I only come out at Christmas. For the rest of the year
Everyone forgets me; it's like I'm not here
A frog needs some love, small gifts beneath the tree
Then it'll be a Happy Christmas, for you and for me