Tonight my children hunch br Toward their Western, and are glad br As, with a Sunday punch, br The Good casts out the Bad. br br br And in their fairy tales br The warty giant and witch br Get sealed in doorless jails br And the match-girl strikes it rich. br br br I’ve made myself a drink. br The giant and witch are set br To bust out of the clink br When my children have gone to bed. br br br All frequencies are loud br With signals of despair; br In flash and morse they crowd br The rondure of the air. br br br For the wicked have grown strong, br Their numbers mock at death, br Their cow brings forth its young, br Their bull engendereth. br br br Their very fund of strength, br Satan, bestrides the globe; br He stalks its breadth and length br And finds out even Job. br br br Yet by quite other laws br My children make their case; br Half God, half Santa Claus, br But with my voice and face, br br br A hero comes to save br The poorman, beggarman, thief, br And make the world behave br And put an end to grief. br br br And that their sleep be sound br I say this childermas br Who could not, at one time, br Have saved them from the gas.