There once was a small boy named Willowick,
Not Charlie, not Samuel, nor Dominic.
He hid under cover
To scare his poor mother
But never did bring off his little trick.
You see, his dear mother was watching him
And knew all about his morning whim
She turned on the camera
For last night had come Santa
And all in the small house would find a grin.
“Willowick, it’s too bad you hid from me
‘Cause I know of something you’d like to see
There are presents galore
Scattered all on the floor
But you’ll have to look under the Christmas tree.”
Willowick was up like a lightning flash
He flew through the door with a big, loud crash
He jumped on the couch
And sat, didn’t slouch
To pounce on the gifts when he had a chance.
