Christmas Time, Hotline

‘Twas the week before Christmas when all through the Wards
The members were coming to parties in hordes.
The rooms were all filled with leftovers and ware,
In the hope the custodians soon would be there.

The P.M.G Hot line was bristling with chatter,
Isabelle said she’d look into the matter.
Richard, of course, had just settled down
From a trip to the Island or somewhere around.

When out on the hallway there arose such a noise:
Unusual shouting from Bob and the boys?
Darrell on a lawn mower was gnashing his teeth,
Colin was shouting, “A legitimate beef.”

Clutched in Wayne’s hand, was a blue ugly box –
 A homemade grenade from used urinal blocks.
Placards and posters read, “Enough is Enough.”
“Whoa!” said Richard,“ This is manager stuff.”

Then right in the middle of this chaos and dread,
What should appear but a man dressed in red.
His pants, oh so baggy, coat tight as a fiddle,
He looked like a garbage bag tied in the middle.

Oh such a sight we had never beholden,
We knew in a flash, it must be Mead Coleman.
His head was all shiny, his cheeks how they glistened.
We all stopped our fussing to stare and to listen.“Well now, what’s up guys?” He reportedly asked.
Richard was quicker and used to the task.
“Hold on,” he said unusually astute,
“Put down your mops and your buckets, don’t shoot.”

“What we have here, as strange as it sounds,
Is our own Tooth Fairy (give or take a few pounds).
Then laying his finger at the tip of his nose,
He said rather cunningly, “Here’s what I propose.”

“Leave it with us. We know what to do.”
And grabbing Mead Coleman, down the highway they flew.
To the Abbotsford Stake, to the great halls of Surrey,
Dash again, dash again, to Vancouver. Hurry!

To and office marked clearly, “Enter who Durst.”
Went Richard, Lion Hearted with Mead Coleman the First.
To the High Council Room, without any airs,
To talk to the men in the black leather chairs.

Mothers will weep telling children the story,
Of Richard and Mead and their great oratory
That caused grown men to cry with delight,
“Yes, yes we believe, and we’ll do it tonight!”

Within the hour came busloads of troops
To all the buildings, in singles and groups.
Members and families, old folks and friends,
Each carrying gadgets with things on the ends.

Right through the front doors like birds how they scattered,
Scrubbing and cleaning like nothing else mattered.
They polished the handles and scrubbed up the doors,
And when they had finished they polished the floors.

In no time at all each building was gleaming,
And each little face of each family was beaming.
Then dancing and singing as each one withdrew,
They blew kisses to us – the custodial crew!

Angels were singing, a harp I was strumming.
I thought this is surely the second great coming.
As the vision began to break up instead,
 I realized it’s only a dream in my head.

But I never forgot as it faded from view,
The things that I saw that members could do.
But until we behold that Celestial sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

-Doug Garrett