WHEN SANTA IS ALL UNEMPLOYED

When Santa sits around unemployed, 

He stares off into the void,
Soon lickety-split,
He jumps up, he can’t sit,
He must design a toy doggie droid.

WHEN SANTA'S JOB IS DONE LIMERICK

On Christmas day Santa sat smoking his pipe,
He had just opened up a can of fresh tripe,
His job was now over,
Until the end of October,
But, Mrs. Claus could work; she could type.