IT'S WHAT'S INSIDE THAT COUNTS

We are all made up of blood and guts,
And things that make nasty puddles,
But, hair and skin,
No matter how thin,
Makes it OK when the nasty stuff cuddles.

SANTA WENT OUT ON THIN ICE

Santa went out on the ice on the bay,
Chasing a reindeer that had just run away,
But, the ice wasn't good,
Where the heavy elf stood,
He said "Ho, Ho," as he went under that day.

BY MY HOUSE ON A HILL WAS A TREE

By my house on a hill was a tree,
I cut the tree down but, I should have left the tree be,
For, the tree held up the hill,
My house made a topple-down spill,
And, I was buried beneath the hill, house and tree.