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Click hereThe city of Charn is dying, Mike.
It's always winter, never Christmas.
Jadis petrifies Tumnus, the faun,
After she coldcocked Rumblebuffin.
Mike hasn't heard a word I said,
Except the funny names, of course,
Who look like his friends on Sesame Street
He speaks to like his rocking horse,
But Aslan, the mighty lion, knows
The strife for those who would believe,
Ordeals that he and his must suffer,
And suffer the sons and daughters of Eve.
On behalf of Edmund Pevensie
Who's eight years older than you are, Mike,
Aslan surrenders himself to Jadis
Because Eddie liked her Turkish Delight.
The beavers are silent; so is the faun
When Mike and I cross the Rubicon
From Digory's wardrobe, so to speak,
To witness death on the altar stone.
"Change the channel!" your mother says
Just before the expected commercial
For something special boys must have
Under the tree to be something special.
Joining our scheduled program again,
We now bear witness to resurrection;
You rock with joy on your rocking horse,
Having forgotten the vivisection.
After all, Mike, 'tis the season
To rock around the Christmas tree
At least until your age of reason
Or News at Eleven on Channel 3.