This is a poem that my mom used to recite every Christmas for as 
long as I can remember. She said she memorized it when she was little. 
Mommy went home to be with the Lord on November 8, 2001.  She was eighty-four.

 

I baked a cake for Santa Claus
One Christmas Eve, at tea;
For if riding makes one hungry,
How hungry he must be.
I placed it on the chimney shelf
Where he'd be sure to go.
I know it does a person good
To be remembered so.
Last night, when all was fast asleep,
Every one but me,
I tiptoed into Mama's room,
Just as still, to see if he had been there yet.
And goodness sake
It made my poor heart ache!
For there sat a misereable little mouse,
Eating santa's cake!

 

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