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Satan Claws
(A Poem by Tim Stallings)

“Twas the night before x-mass” we all have so heard,
But still in my heart I find it absurd.
How a fat-man can get down a chimney so fast,
Where even I, a small man, would need a big blast.
With promises of toys, if the children obey,
For only a month they are told how to sway.
Be good for a while and then gifts you’ll receive,
Believe in the fat-man to whom you can’t conceive.
He flies in one night from heaven above,
With twelve tiny Reindeer adjoined like a glove.
They always will get there or so you may glean,
Destinations of night in which they are not seen.
If I really could think that I thought this was true,
Then what I know now no one should misconstrue.
If ever I thought that the parents could think,
To take Yahweh’s Word and throw it in the drink.
These lies that are told on these abominations,
Come not only from hearts but imaginations.
To all the children that have been misled,
Don’t listen to them, it’s just all in their head.
The Good Book indeed talks of a Saviour to love,
And His Name is not Nicholas, but Yahshua from above.
Saint Nicholas the story has been told to the nation,
But what about money and commercialization.
They buy and they spend to give gifts and to receive,
To make themselves poor and when over, they grieve.
If only I had not spent so much on the tree,
The presents and the money, Oh how my heart wants to be free.
To feed the poor children, who we know are in need,
I’m not sorry to say but I know we must heed.
This story they tell is a lie and that’s one for those led,
I’m still trying to get this thing out of my head.
This story of Claus and the seeing of red,
He comes round every year while you are in bed.
This big gnome red fat man with a bag full of toys,
To give to all children, both girls and boys.
To give them away, it takes but one night,
To the world at large this seems all right.
But the toys they received became huge piles of junk,
And out they are thrown and become nothing but bunk.
And on these gifts was spent so much money,
Which was then given to one called honey.
This money used could have been better spent,
Before the gifts were all come and then all went.
O Yahweh, O Yahshua, in Whom we do believe,
Our hearts are in unison in Him Who gives relief.
We need not to think that He will not provide,
His Word is a buckler, It is pure and tried.
When I say that it’s tried in Whom we agree,
We know from experience it’s Him we shall see.
We need no false stories to live life to His purity,
His Spirit inside us which dwells for a surety.
There’s just one more thing that I want you to see,
How did 12 tribes became reindeer with a fat man all glee.
We know it’s not true, as reindeer can’t fly,
Oh to you parents I say, Why then Oh why, why?
I know when I tell you that Santa is dead,
Because all who believe the story should well call him Fred.
It makes no whole matter of difference to me,
If those who condemn me shall not wholly see.
I am telling you the truth, as this is no lie,
I still will be praying that you come out with no cry.
So don’t make up stories to make children believers,
Hold onto His Word which you must be receivers.
Seek ye Salvation from Yahshua above,
Not from the strangers who show you no love.
There’s truly a mix here and you surely will have falls,
If you trust in the story of Old Satan Claws!!!

-Tim Stallings


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