Grandma's Attic

It's true, these are the haulidays, when we haul in lots of toys
We haul in all the relatives, who haul in lots of noise
We haul in piles and piles of wood which we burn to keep us warm
and then we haul out ashes, to keep fires from causing harm
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We haul in bags and bags of food we buy down at the store
and then we cook and eat it, then haul garbage out galore
and when it snows and snows and snows
we haul out mittens and coats for play
and then we have to shovel snow forever and a day
to keep the roads and drive-ways open, so more relatives can come
and haul in all the New Year's paraphanalia
Oh, it's begun
to be a hauliday-long season, lasting clear to Valentine's day
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What happened to that manger scene, where angels came to say
'This is a holy-day, for Christ is born'
and a few sheperds crossed the land
to honor Him and worship?
I fear Christmas is out of hand
and we go on with hauling trees inside to decorate for a week
and then we have to haul them out
Where's the Saviour wise men seek?
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Oh! listen for the bells and watch for stars
and the message the angel brings
instead of all this hauling in and out
of worldly things
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