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Merry Christmas 2006
NANCY'S FIRST YEAR OF RETIREMENT
(with apologies to THE FIRST NOEL)
by Nancy E. Reilly
The first retirement year, my husband did say,
"Is this going to be our life, day after day?
With shopping and what not , when does it end?
It's worst that a cold winter's night, my friend."
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Retirement is a holy hell...
So we looked up in South Carolina
For a house that was bigger and one that was "fina."
And we bought a new three-story home
So each of us could have room to roam.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Retirement is a holy hell...
We got another boat which now makes it three,
And spent the summer on Lake Keowee.
We had fun in the mountains walking up and down hills,
But we had no income to pay all the bills.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Retirement is a holy hell...
And soon we realized we were in a stew
For it was a fact... we had nothing to do.
To seek employment was the intent,
So Gene got a job as a "security cop-for-rent."
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Retirement is a holy hell...
Our sweet granddaughters, Jackie and Isabelle,
Fill us with such joy that you can tell
That we're very close, which is really great,
Even though we each live in a different State.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Retirement is a holy hell...
Michael with Elizabeth has retired from the Navy.
Now he's consulting in Seattle making big gravy.
Isabelle turned four and is starting preschool.
At Detroit's School Reunion we had fun in the pool.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Retirement is a holy hell...
Laywer Tim and Cathy are in Denver doing just fine.
Jacqueline's almost walking and never does whine.
But it has been hard for them being so far
To make the long trip in the car.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Retirement is a holy hell...
Now the holiday season brings gladness to all
Which we'd like to share before going to the mall.
So may you partake in what Christmas does bring
With health and happiness to all your offspring.
Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel
Retirement is not really a holy hell... ©
 HOW THE REILLY'S ARE DOING THIS CHRISTMAS
2007
by Nancy E. Reilly (with apologies to Dr. Suess)
Every Who
Down in Who-ville
Liked Christmas a lot...
But Nancy,
Who lived just South of Who-ville,
Did NOT!
Nancy hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be that her head wasn't screwed on quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that her Posterior Tibial Tendon was too tight.
But we think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that her shoes were two sizes (vanity?) too small.
But,
Whatever the reasons,
Her tendon or her shoes,
She stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the season Staring up from
her Southern home with a sour, Grinchy frown
At the warm lighted window's round her Savannah town.
"And they're hanging their stockings!" she snarled with a sneer.
"Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!"
Then she growled, with her arthritic fingers nervously drumming,
"I MUST find a way to keep Christmas from coming!"
It's tomorrow, she whinned...
But then she thought of the friends that she knew...
And so she remembered the fun times that she had
And quickly felt love of all those that were bad...
Her husband, her children who neglected to show
Love during all the days that were not Christmas...HO HO!
Remember that Christmas comes only once per year
But the way you can show love never will be more dear
Then to show it all day, every day of the year.
Then Christmas will never, never be anything to fear!
 CHRISTMAS TREES 2008
(with apologies to Joyce Kilmer's "TREES")
by Nancy E. Reilly
I don't think that we can ever take
Another year like '08.
A year that saw gas prices go up, then down...
And housing prices to make you frown.
A year that caused a banking trauma,
And not to mention Barak Obama!
A year that let the stock market
Take so much money out of our pocket.
A year that saw he car sales tank:
And all ATM's drawing blank.
A year to which we will say, "Farewell,"
And hope that '09 won't be more hell.
2008 was a bitter pill...
The Christmas spirit it could kill.
But even this year's wild ride
Cannot dimished the Yuletide.
Poems are made by fools like me,
To make your season full of glee.
This poem was made just for you,
So now your Christmas won't be blue. ©
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