The malls are decked with plastic holly,
Poor Santa (somehow) still looks jolly,
And every year the season starts more early;
The stores are jammed -- the usual crowd,
The Christmas tunes are playing loud,
And every year the weather gets more squirrely.
The Christmas stuff's been on display
(It seems) forever and a day,
And maybe this would only be amusing --
The shoppers dashing store to store
To buy, frenetic, ever more --
If it weren't for the world that we're abusing.
Pollution, strip mines, old-growth trees
Cut down and sent to factories
(In China) where they make the crap we're buying;
Perhaps this seems a daunting task,
But -- Santa -- all I really ask
For Christmas, is an Earth that isn't frying.
There's plastic reindeer, plastic snow
And plastic icicles that glow
(To make the yard look Christmassy and nice);
While CO2 fills up the skies,
The worldwide temperatures all rise,
And soon the North Pole won't have any ice.
And real snow melts away in spring,
But yet another plastic thing
Takes hundreds of years longer (if at all);
Though we can change things -- if we hurry --
It needs to be a bigger worry
Than getting up the Christmas stuff in fall.
(Extrapolating these two trends
Right out to their eventual ends --
Assuming no world-saving new endeavor --
I forecast a dystopia
Like some inverted Narnia
Where it is always Christmas - winter, never.)