I don’t put up poetry every Thursday as I did from 2004 until this summer. (They’re all archived here.) But every December I’ve been blogging I’ve put up this AA Milne classic. My mother recited it to me annually throughout my childhood. And though Heloise is a little young to understand it, she will hear its rhythms tomorrow night.
A Merry Christmas and a light-filled Hanukkah to all.
King John’s Christmas
King John was not a good man
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.
King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
King John was not a good man,
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They’d given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.
King John was not a good man,
He lived his live aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.
He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
“TO ALL AND SUNDRY – NEAR AND FAR -
F. Christmas in particular.”
And signed it not “Johannes R.”
But very humbly, “Jack.”
“I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don’t mind oranges,
I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!”
King John was not a good man.
He wrote this message out,
And gat him to this room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
A prey to hopes and fears.
“I think that’s him a-coming now!”
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
“He’ll bring one present, anyhow;
The first I had for years.”
“Forget about the crackers,
And forget the candy;
I’m sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don’t like oranges,
I don’t want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocket-knife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!”
King John was not a good man,
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly: “As I feared,
Nothing again for me!”
“I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts!
I haven’t got a pocket-knife -
Not one that cuts.
And, oh! if Father Christmas, had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red,
india-rubber ball!”
King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all …
When through the window big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india-rubber ball!
And oh Father Christmas,
My blessings on you fall
For bringing him a big, red,
India-rubber ball!
Not bad King John. GOOD King John.
Thanks for posting this. My folks also read this to me annually throughout my childhood. I read it every year still. Merry Christmas to you!
Many thanks Hugo! I thought I’d find this on Google somewhere, easier than typing it up myself from A.A. Milne’s book of poems–but hadn’t realized how interesting the blog I found it in would be! My father, who taught English Lit. at the U. of Md., used to read the poem to us at Christmas, as your mother did…I also much enjoyed your self-description–”progressive Anabaptist/Episcopalian Democrat (but with a sense of humor)”…before becoming a U. Methodist pastor I grew up Presbyterian/summer Anglican, then was Quaker for six years in college, then U.C.C. until my husband and I both decided the standard joke that UCC means “Unitarians Considering Christ” actually did apply quite well to our then congregation. Having considered and actually accepted Christ ourselves (we are not fundamentalists, just believers), we ended up in the U.M. church…where incidentally I find it very handy for a pastor to be, like you, an ENFP. It’s uncommon in my field- the vast majority of pastors are introverts… Also like you, I am blessed by a surrounding Jewish community–in my case a small percentage of the residents of the small town I serve–but my Jewish friends here are consistently among those who turn out for our charitable community activities, if it’s a mitzvah, they are here… Happy New Year! Judy Young, D.C. area progressive United Methodist ENFP…