Now twenty-one two-fifty
Of posts have come and gone
And vanished in the winter air
Of a crisp, bright Christmas morn.
Today, there's peace in Bethlehem,
Where folks stroll with aplomb,
And this is due to the rising light
Of our ever-conscious Mom.

Yes there's nothing like BS for the holiday
When winter's bitter ruth
Gives way to something warmer,
And closer to the Truth.
There's nothing like BS for the Solstice night,
Knowing the spring doth come;
And with it, joy, and babies,
And, better still, more Mom!



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