We start out cold to Bel Tree Farm
So many trees, I am alarmed!
Wave to Santa, what’s up there Snowman?
We are officially in the middle of tree land!
Not too short, must be green,
The price must be right, and it can’t lean.
Men in red with real sharp saws
“Find one yet?” and then we pause.
There it is, standing so noble,
Soon that tree will be in our mobile!
Chop chop here, hack hack there,
Shake off dead needles, bugs beware!
Slap a net around with ease
Throw it on a stand, pretty pretty please?
Cider, popcorn, little kiddies round
Forty smackaroos, happiness abounds!
Driving our pine back to our dwelling,
That tell-tale scent we soon are smelling.
Fill the bowl with the water it needs,
Lights and ribbons cascading down the tree.
Pokey needles, broken star
The one from Walmart isn’t up to par.
What ever shall we put on our tree top?
Why not the hat that Santa puts on his mop!
Lying on the couch, staring til we snooze,
No better holiday moment that I could ever choose.