Santa’s Christmas Candy House

Spare me your gingerbread, brittle and stale,
And candy canes chipped from a old factory sale.
Santa’s no child; he’s been around the block,
And needs a stiff drink to steady the clock.

The kids all screech, their letters all groan:
“I want a phone, a dog, a drone!”
He reads their demands, his patience thin,
And dreams of a house with brandy within.

Whiskey? Too sharp. Eggnog? Too thick.
Wine? Too dull to do the trick.
But a Brandy House, bold and fine,
Is just the thing when you doing overtime.

The reindeer steer while he grabs his bottle,
No need for reins, they’ve got full throttle.
And down the chimney, here’s the deal,
Brandy grease makes his landings real.

It’s not magic that shrinks his girth,
Just spirits fueling his Christmas mirth.
So skip the sweets, forget the fluff
Give Santa a house with the real good stuff!.