Across the World, rested three good friends, all happily awaiting.

The first friend, was named Alatar, and he had written Santa for a gift holy and true. Alatar had wished for a dog of his own, a dog of which he could be fond, a dog of which he could care for.

However Alatar's wish, did not come on christmas day, though alone and sad in bed he laid.

The merrily days come-a true swingin, christmas time is aswimmin, a time for merry and cheer.

Orbay sat cold in the town, he had purchased a dog to sift through the snow, however he wanted a friend to make him merry.

Though he was a schemer, a cheat, and a fraud; he had betrayed too much and desired a clause.

So Orbay went to bed, alone except for the tail wagging of an unbeknownst dog.

The snow powdered the ground, caking it far all around, the merry season grew quickly.

Wilf was a man who wrote stories, and theories, and he sat in his home taxed by men unfeeling.

His home had been inclined, bank owned by greedy sublime.

For Christmas he wished his debt to vanish, but instead he only got more bills than he could manage.

A swell season, from me to you.

Sometimes merry and holy, still cannot abide nor fix; the fact life still stings.