Was the day after Christmas and all through our home,
The sounds of joy had gone and we were all alone.
T'was the Covid, we cried in our weak little voices,
It ruined our grand Christmas and gave us no choices.
It made some quite sickly and then took some lives;
Wives lost their husbands and husbands their wives.
Without our kin with us, with friends just as well,
We all are depressed now and cranky as hell.
The markets are good, we surely are told;
But millions need work and are out in the cold.
The Covid keeps taking and doesn't give back;
Our lives are the poorer for that which we lack.
There's now a great hope for that which we're promised,
It's hope that we have that keeps us the calmest:
A cure of vaccine; be sure that you take it.
With this in your cells, you surely will make it.
And when you make it and surely you will,
You'll be like a beacon of hope on a hill.
We'll draw from each other the joy that we need,
Thanks in advance for doing this deed.
