“Dear Santa Claus,” wrote Mary Ann,
“I really do think that a pram
Would be the very, very thing
I’d wish a Santa Claus would bring.
Please make it big and make it blue,
With room for dolls and teddy too.
And if the bedding comes with it,
No sheets and blankets snugly fit;
A modern pram, my friends all say,
Should sport a ‘Unicorn’ duvet.”
At dead of night on Christmas Eve,
Poor Santa Claus did shove and heave,
Until the pram was safely there,
Down chimney dark, and with much care
He dusted off his sooty coat,
And shook his beard and cleared his throat.
Climbed out the hearth with happy thought
Of Mary’s joy with what he’d brought.
And all the way to Mary’s door,
A-tiptoeing on creaking floor,
To find upon young Mary’s bed
Another note, and this one read,
“Dear Santa Claus, re. message 1,
I really was just having fun.
But then, of course, you know I am
Now much too grown up for a pram.
And (if it's possible, of course),
I’d very much prefer a horse!”