Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
When down through the chimney, all covered with soot
Came the “Spirit of Fire,” an ugly galoot.
His eyes glowed like embers; his features were stern
As he looked all around him for something to burn.
What he saw made him grumble-his anger grew higher
For there wasn’t a single thing that would start a good fire.
No door had been blocked by the big Christmas tree
It stood in the corner, leaving passageways free.
The lights that glow brightly for Betty and Tim
Had been hung with precaution, so none touched a limb.
All wiring was new, not a break could be seen
And wet sand at its base kept the tree nice and green.
The tree had been trimmed by a mother insistent,
That the ornaments used should be fire resistant.
The mother had known the things to avoid,
Like cotton and paper and plain celluloid.
Rock wool, metal icicles and trinkets of glass,
Gave life to the tree – it really had class.
And would you believe it, right next to the tree
Was a suitable box for holding debris
A place to hold wrappings of paper and string
From all of the gifts that Santa might bring.
The ugly galoot was so mad he could bust
As he climbed up the chimney in utter disgust.
For the folks in this home had paid close attention
T O A L L O F T H E R U L E S O F G O O D F I R E P R E V E N T I O N!
