This is another Santa poem that Dad wrote!!
"Next Year"

Old Santa must sit,
At the North Pole and sigh,
At the many strange sights,
Seen as he passes by.

On each Christmas Eve,
While delivering gifts,
His way of giving,
This old world a lift.

He surely sees greed,
In the actions of some,
Who takes all they get,
But in giving keeps mum.

Also the evil,
In some, Christmas Eve.
Who causes so many,
Others to grieve.
But also he sees,

The weak and the poor.
Also among them,
The strong and the pure.
So he'll be back,
Again next year,

The good outweighs the bad.
But things he sees,
On Christmas Eve,
Must surely make him sad.

E. H. Coe 1974