God rest ye Weary PokeMoms
Let nothing you dismay
The game you found in August
Is not in lay-away—
Computer glitch, we’re sorry ma’am
We gave your game away.
Oh, tidings of panic, frantic Mom
PokeMom
Oh, tidings of panic, frantic Mom.
She listens in a freezing line
And trembles as they tell
The courage of the Furby Moms,
And Cabbage Patch as well.
The ones that tickled Elmo
Were valiant as they fell. <continued below>
Oh, tidings of panic, frantic Mom
PokeMom
Oh, tidings of panic, frantic Mom
He asked for nothing else this year,
So nothing else will do.
Where else will you find it—
This Yellow Pikachu?
When adults act like children ,
As they snatch a toy from you.
Oh, tidings of panic, frantic Mom
PokeMom
Oh, tidings of panic, frantic Mom
Alas, no game for this poor mom
Whatever will he say?
The search is ending, now it’s down
To how much she can pay
If all else fails, his college fund
Can buy it on Ebay.
Oh, tidings of panic, frantic Mom
PokeMom
Oh, tidings of panic, frantic Mom
Copyright Mitzi Bryant, November 29,
1999. Mitzi Bryant is an accountant and freelance writer,
when not being Single Mom to her three children: Will,
Kate, and Anna. She writes poetry, parenting humor, and
articles on the trials and joys of being a single parent.
Mitzi and her little family live, love, work, and play in
Alabama.
