'Twas Christmas, and the panicked droves
The mallstore's fierce parking would brave:
For sacking of the treasure-troves,
Receipts of gift to save.
"Beware the Shopping Cart, my son!
The open maw, the wheels that catch!
Beware the Store Cashier, who at
Your credit card will snatch!"
He took his wallet firm in hand:
Through bright-lit alleys gifts he sought --
Then rested in a food court chair,
For prezzies he'd found nought.
And, as with queasy tum he sat,
From drinking too much nog of egg,
The empty Shopping Cart a-rolled,
And smacked into his leg!
One, two! Three, four! Through every store
The plastic card again he swiped!
The gifts he brought out to the lot,
And then he went home, wiped.
"And, has thou filled the Shopping Cart?
O, sit down in this chair and chill!"
He could not wait, gifts to uncrate,
For he'd not pay the bill.
'Twas Christmas, and the panicked droves
The mallstore's fierce parking would brave:
For sacking of the treasure-troves,
Receipts of gift to save.
(with deepest apologies to Lewis Carroll, and a tip of the hat to Rhymezone.)
