Fit By Christmas.
From late December on Santa has time to kill,
To kick back, crack open some cold ones, sit and chill,
To chomp Chitos, uncinch his belt, let his guts spill.
So Santa presented himself with a treadmill-
For a man who won’t be seen to be over the hill
He’s making hard work of staying precisely still.
Santa stepped up to his work with a will,
A smile wreathing his jolly old face until…
Santa’s replacement has big boots to fill.