San Quentin Santa
“TWAS the night before Christmas
And all through the joint –
Not a convict was stirring,
But that’s not the point!
For, without a chimney
How could old St. Nick,
Bring in his goodies,
And exit as quick?
While the cons were all dreamin’
Of women and cars –
They still hung their socks out
On all the cell bars!
Along about midnight,
There came such a clatter –
And I, out of my rack
To check on the matter!
And to my surprise,
I saw out on the tier –
The Big Man himself,
And eight tiny reindeer!
And Santa, he saw me
And I, playin’ the role –
Asked if he brought me
An early parole?
But he just shook his head
And said in accord –
“I’m only God’s helper,
Not one of the Board!”
So, with his work finished,
And making his point –
He wished all Merry Christmas,
Then sped from the joint!
But I heard him exclaim
As he drove out of sight –
“Keep feedin’ those pigeons,
And keep Christmas white!”
By T.D. Ventura December, 1970 San Quentin Prison
