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That was the message he yelled in the street
And wrote on his placard for shoppers he’d meet.
“Tell children the truth, it’s the right thing to do
“Give them real facts of life not far-fetched ballyhoo.”
It was clear he was hell-bent on nixing St. Nick
To crowds of onlookers gobsmacked by his shtick.
The man who had sparked this untimely dissent
Was not what you’d call a right jolly old gent.
His name? Richard Dildy but then it was mud,
For being so Grinch-like and causing bad blood.
It’s here that our yarn takes a minor detour
To previous times when he caused quite a stir.
He once wore a poster and bare feet — that’s all
To protest police and their role in a brawl.
Before that, in his 30s, he’d searched for a mate,
A woman to marry if he played it straight.
He worked with computers and though he was smart,
Success would elude in affairs of the heart.
He was so sad and lonely and bars didn’t work
Each time he said “hi” his approach just said “jerk.”
So he wrote up a sign making clear his despair
In hopes that there might be lone females out there.
“If you’re a good woman, please make yourself known,
“Just call me,” his sign said, “I’ll be by the phone.”
He walked down Yonge St. with his heart on his sleeve
He’d have stayed there all day but a friend said to leave.
“You look like a fool, put that sign away, bro.”
So he gave up and went home, his quest a no-go.
Or so Dildy thought till he walked in the door
And his phone rang so much he could hardly ignore
The fact that his sad plea had touched quite a chord
With too many women to ever get bored.
He took to romance like a duck to confit
“The ad paid off big time,” he chortled with glee.
But the kicker, it seems, to his new lease on life,
Was the woman who won him was his former wife.
But back to our story of Dildy’s crusade
To banish Kris Kringle and spoil his parade.
He made such a racket espousing his views
He landed in court and smack-dab in the news.
The judge told him off and then gave him a fine,
“You shattered the peace and you picked the wrong time
“To upset the young ones and grown-ups alike
“With injurious words and your public dislike
“Of someone who’s jolly and joyful and merry,
“That white-bearded elf with a nose like a cherry.”
But the damage was done and the boat was still rocking
As heavy hearts sank like coal lumps in a stocking.
Dick’s logic was solid, it gave parents pause
Perhaps he was right about old Mr. Claus.
They’d never seen reindeer with wings on their feet
And with science on his side, how could they compete?
But the wisest among them cried, “We’ll fight this smirch!”
So they asked Mr. Google to go on a search
For a long-ago question that might still apply
From a child named Virginia with a penchant to pry.
She wrote to a newsman and asked him point-blank:
“Does Santa exist? Please be truthful and frank.”
The sage scribe dug deep for the right words to say
And the answer he gave still holds meaning today.
“We don’t need to see him to know that he lives,
“There’s proof in the kindness and love that he gives.”
As the townsfolk took heart from this touching Yule tale,
They knew Santa’s fandom would surely prevail.
“That bad anti-Santa should not be believed,
“We’re too full of goodwill to be so aggrieved.
“Lest anyone doubt the sleigh driver’s no ghost,
“It’s believing not seeing that matters the most.”
With renewed conviction St. Nick would be there,
They rushed home to hang all the stockings with care.
Then tucked sleepy children all snug in their beds
And prayed Mr. D hadn’t messed with their heads.
(The man who dissed Kringle had no mean intent,
It was said some years later when his life had been spent.)
That’s that for the near-theft of Christmas of old
But there’s still a small part that has yet to be told.
It’s the ending when Santa was all set to fly,
And he sprang to his sleigh with a twinkling eye.
“Happy Christmas!” he called as he drove out of sight.
“You too, Richard Dildy! It’s been a delight!”
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