Beat Elves

Tired of the electronic circuitry line

For the X – something,

Weee – something

Gang of letter writers

Bubs and Jeebers

Packed their woodwinds

Swapping this ice block

For a jazz gig down south

Catching the first dogsled

Out of the tundra

Heading for Mama Millie’s Moose Bar

Burning up some hot jazz

Sweating up a rainstorm

For the drought of the land

Drought in their hearts

Serenading some round-eared,

Red-nosed dolls

Making them pine

For a cooler life

In winter wonderland

With some buck-eyed stags,

Some sandman tunes

Into the magic of twilight

Shaking a tail

High tailing it north

For that mystical trade-off

With shining stars
Lit-up elves

Donning their shades in the sun

Until their numbers came up

Finding their callings

On the MP3 line

As the Big Man smiles

And whistles Dixie.