My middle granddaughter is a mere seven years old
So upset is she, she can’t cross the threshold
Of the most famous roller coaster in all the world
Where she longs to be thrilled, hurled and whirled.
At the entrance is a guide that ultimately dictates
the hight you must exceed, she is in dire straits
I asked her, what she wanted Santa to bring?
She answered emphatically, “That sign downsizing”
Donning my thinking cap, I adjourned to my shed
On Christmas eve night, after she’d gone to bed
With the help of some elves, from Santa’s workshop
We fashioned some shoes to get her to the top
On Christmas morning there in her stocking
She found some new shoes with a secret chocking
“Go and stand by the door” I said as she arose
“Santa’s special little elves, have made you those”
There on the door frame, she had etched a mark
Once she had reached, the coaster she could embark
“Magic shoes!” she exclaimed with glee
Overcome with excitement, that was obvious to see.
“This is the bestest present I’ve ever had,
It says on the label, there from you Grandad.”
Giving me the greatest of hugs, I could ever conceive
Restoring her faith. In Father Christmas she believes.