‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the land
Every person was smitten; child, woman and man.
The joy hung thick just like a wreath on a door
As it equalized rich folk, middle-class and poor.
The malls were small kingdoms with gates opened wide
And minions and paupers were jam-packed inside
So willing to buy from those willing to sell,
It seemed that those Kay Jewelers ads worked out well.
As the weather turned colder, their hearts heated up
As they sipped from their tall red and white Starbucks cup.
There were argyle sweaters and peacoats galore
And Ugg boots and mittens and thermals and more.
The bell-ringers chimed and the choirs all sang
Through the streets and the town-squares, their loud voices rang.
Every person was filled to the brim with good cheer.
It was their kind of Christmas, it was that kind of year.
But underneath all of the songs and the snow
Past the striped candy canes and the Christmas light glow
There was one who was not buying into the hype
'cuz his heart was pitch black, and they called him "The Gripe."
It was that time of year that the Gripe would come out,
And while others were joyful, the Gripe would just pout.
"Bah Humbug!", he'd scream to the quaint passers-by
while the boys would run scared and the girls would just cry.
"Bah Humbug to you and this whole holiday,
Save your 'Merries' and 'Jollies' and just go away!
Though my heart is as cold as the snow and the ice
This world's better when everyone's not so fake-nice!"
So the people would leave him alone on the street
Since he snarled and snapped at every person he'd meet.
'Til that one fateful day he was walking alone,
It was late Christmas Eve, everyone was at home
Except some who were packed in a church on the corner.
"I'll ruin this scene," said that awful, ol' scorner.
The Gripe walked up the steps and he slipped through the door
And he glided across that old sawdusted floor.
He was caught off guard quickly by beautiful sounds
As the small congregation sang hymns in their rounds.
He stood still in the back as he took it all in,
As they sang of the star, and the sheep and wise men.
Then they quietly crooned a familiar old tune
Of the birth that took place that one night 'neath the moon
And the child that was sent down for me and for you
And, believe it or not, was sent for The Gripe, too,
From a Father who watches us all from above.
No one ever had told The Gripe there was such love.
As he stood in that spot, in the back of the room
The Gripe's heart started opening up, like a tomb.
With his hands firmly clasped, down his cheek rolled a tear
And he finally understood their Christmas cheer.
So remember among all this holiday time
That this season is more than just nickels and dimes.
It's about a small child who was sent here to earth,
And a Savior who saw you for more than you're worth.
