If Good King Wenceslaus looked down today He might well ask in irony if we Have adequate food for these Twelve Days With our leftover hams and yams and rolls
Coffee and tea, chocolates from Italy Bread loaves so ****** they incense the air Potatoes and puddings and plates of cheese – Our cry is, “I couldn’t eat another bite!”
So are the gifts we left on the Jesse Tree For some poor man are all that they might be?