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View Diary: Abbreviated Pundit Round-up: The NRA shoots its mouth off edition (175 comments)

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  •  LePierre Unmasked... (0+ / 0-)

    INNOCENT’S SONG

    Who’s that knocking on the window,
    Who’s that standing at the door,
    What are all those presents
    Lying on the kitchen floor?

    Who is the smiling stranger
    With hair as white as gin,
    What is he doing with the children
    And who could have let him in?

    Why has he rubies on his fingers,
    A cold, cold crown on his head,
    Why, when he caws his carol,
    Does the salty snow run red?

    Why does he ferry my fireside
    As a spider on a thread,
    His fingers made of fuses
    And his tongue of gingerbread?

    Why does the world before him
    Melt in a million suns,
    Why do his yellow, yearning eyes
    Burn like saffron buns?

    Watch where he comes walking
    Out of the Christmas flame,
    Dancing, double talking:

    Herod is his name.

    ~ Charles Causley (1917-2003), English poet and writer

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