Under the Christmas tree
Are toys for you and me:
First we have our personal phones;
Now, we can each have our own drones…
They fly high – they fly low –
Hovering to and fro.
Like eerie will-o’-the-wisp they fly…
Appearing like dust specks in the sky…
They fly high…they fly low…
We can’t see where they go…
Suddenly here! Silently there!
Like ghosts, they show up everywhere!
Like aliens, out of a nightmare –
Disappearing, ev’n as we stare…
Under the Christmas tree
Are drones for you and me…