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You all will wonder what's the news; if all has gone well, and if not, who's to blame; and whether Polar Bear has earned a mark good, bad, or fair, for his behaviour since last winter. Well, first he trod upon a splinter*** and went on crutches in November; and then one cold day in December he burnt his nose and singed his paws upon the kitchen grate, because without the help of tongs he tried to roast hot chestnuts. 'Wow'!" he cried, and used a pound of butter (best) to cure the burns. He would not rest, but on the twenty-third he went and climbed up on the roof. He meant to dear the snow away that choked I, his chimney up - of course he poked his legs right through the tiles, and snow in tons fell on his bed below. He has broken saucers, cups and plates; and eaten lots of chocolates; he's dropped large boxes on my toes, and trodden tin soldiers flat in rows; he's over-wound engines and broken springs, and mixed up different children's things; he's thumbed new books and burst balloons and scribbled lots of smudgy Runes on my best paper, and wiped his feet on scarves and hankies folded neat - And yet he has been, on the whole, a very kind and willing soul. |
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He's fetched and carried, counted, packed, and for a week has never slacked: he's climbed the cellar-stairs at least five thousand times - the Dear Old Beast! Paksu sends love, and Valkotukka. They are still with me; they don't look a year older, but they're just a bit more wise, and have a pinch more wit. The GOBLINS, you'll be glad to hear have not been seen at all this year, not near the Pole. But I am told, they're moving south, and getting bold, and coming back to many lands, and making with their wicked hands new mines and caves. But do not fear! They'll hide away when I appear. CHRISTMAS DAY: POSTSCRIPT BY ILBERETH Now Christmas day has come round again - and poor Polar Bear has got a bad pain! They say he's swallowed a couple of pounds of nuts without cracking the shells! It sounds a Polarish sort of thing to do - but that isn't all, between me and you: he's eaten a ton of various goods and recklessly mixed all his favourite foods, honey with ham, and turkey and treacle, and pickles with milk. I think that a week'll be needed to put the old bear on his feet, And I mustn't forget bis particular treat: plum pudding with sausages and turkish delight covered with cream and devoured at a bite! And after this dish, he stood on his head - ifs rather a wonder the poor fellow's not dead! |
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ABSOLUTE ROT: I HAVE NOT GOT A PAIN IN MY POT. I DO NOT EAT TURKEY OR MEAT: I STICK TO THE SWEET. WHICH IS WHY AS ALL KNOW) I AM SO SWEET MYSELF YOU THINNUOUS ELF! GOODBY! You know my friends too well to think (although they're rather rude with ink) that there are really quarrels here! We've had a very jolly year (except for Polar's rusty nail): but now this rhyme must catch the Mail - a special messenger must go, in spite of thickly falling snow, or else this won't get down to you on Christmas day. It's half past two! We've quite a ton of crackers still to pull, and glasses still to fill! Our love to you on this Noel - and till the next one, fare you well! |
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*** JUST RHIMING NONSENS: IT WAS A NAIL - RUSTY, TOO! P.B.