Pretty little Corgi in the snow,
hunting for the perfect Christmas tree,
so says Mom,
what he's looking for,
doesn't smell like a
tree.
We go here,
we go there,
wet feet,
anointing
frequently,
this one Mom?
Nope she says,
standing under,
shaking the
snow off many,
she's very snowy
too.
Ach, she cries,
no anointing that one,
it's going home
with us.
Ok,
whatever,
we're
empty
anyway.
Peace
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