So when Santa murmured, “We’ve reached cruising speed!”
It seemed to poor Dizzy they’d reached bruising speed.
For he had no seat, let alone a seatbelt;
So each bump in the air, his posterior felt.
They went up and down, stopped at many a dwelling
And poor Dizzy’s bruises were rapidly swelling.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish