Christmas Is A-Coming

 

 

Christmas is a-coming

Porky’s a-getting fat,

If you are Seventh Day Adventist,

Stay away from that.

 

 

In the Moron household

A quarrel is a-brewing,

It is getting near to Christmas

And little is a-doing.

 

  

Moron wanted pork

But Simpleton refused,

She is now a Seventh Day Adventist

And pork she cannot choose.

 

But Moron was adamant

It was never like this

For pork is a definite essential

She wants him to miss.

 

So, noise broke down

All over the place,

All two shouting at one another

And in each other’s face.

 

But there was more,

She wouldn’t do a thing,

Other than take the SDA hymnal

And all day, sing.

 

  

“Simpleton,” Moron, shouted,

“But you for real?

Ever since you join the Adventist

Wifely duties fail.

 

You get real lazy

And scarcely doing a thing

And after every noise, I notice,

You begin to sing.”

 

 

“Moron,” Simpleton replied,

“You need God!

And that is all I planning to say,

That is all!”

  

“Every year before,

We celebrated Christmas

And you of all people, Simpleton,

Made a lot of fuss.

 

 

And now this year

You are trying to tell me

You are a Seventh Day Adventist

So, no festivity?

 

Not even a piece of pork

Or a little ham?

And you want me to understand

That is the plan?

 

Married all these years

And suddenly this?

No pork, no bacon and no ham,

What a miss!

 

No response, Simpleton?

Nothing to say?

At least you could quarrel and fret

Like back in the day.”

 

 

“I said too much already

And I fret my soul,

You can buy in parts like above

Or buy the pig whole.

 

I turn vegetarian

Eating chicken or lamb

With some fish, duck or turkey

But no-pork is my plan.

 

Do not bring any pork

For me to cook!

I am neither cooking nor eating it,

I’ve a different outlook.”

 

Denominations split

And religion parts ways

And for Moron and SDA Simpleton,

These are different days. 

  

Christmas is a-coming

Porky’s a-getting fat,

But Simpleton who is now Adventist

Is nothing to do with that.

 

 

“Grounds for divorce!

And this is surely one,

So, by Christmas time next year,

I Moron will be gone.”

 

 

“Be careful, Moron,

What you predict,

Before Christmas time next year,

You might exit.

 

Stewart Russell © December 8, 2025

 

Simpleton

 

 

Simpleton is a moron

But then she is married to one,

Her spouse as we all know

Is Mr. Moron.

 

Married for many a year,

These two is a definite fit,

While many couples do tit-for-tat

They do tat-for-tit.

 

“What’s wrong,” you ask,

“About doing tat-for-tit?”

Well, the Morons go backwards

To come forward a bit.

 

Simpleton is the wife

And her roll she clearly knows,

Whatever her husband says to do

She is prepared to oppose.

 

Like on the wedding day

None of his family was to come

And she got away with this request

Convincing him it was dumb.

 

None of his family came

While all of hers attended

And so, her family had all the work,

And she was highly offended.

 

 

Her family did the spending

And Moron’s family was spared,

Simpleton made a huge mistake

But Moron didn’t care.

 

Oh yes, he was very dumb

But she was dumber still

And together they are the dumbest;

Dumb-dumb is their skill.

 

Like the day he was shut out,

She came out without a key

And the rain came pouring down

Boy, weren’t they silly?

 

An absurd little couple:

Both are short of stature,

So short that these two present

Only half a picture.

 

One more and I’ll be gone

Having run out of time

But I have to tell you this last one

Since it’s on my mind.

 

 

Like the last fight they had

Which Simpleton had caused

By saying she was a fool to marry him

And for a divorce she called.

 

Moron was eager to accept

Shouting that he agreed,

Suddenly, he had found a way out

And now he could be freed.

 

However, she thought it over

Noticing he was too cool;

She was Simpleton by name and nature

But she was no fool.

 

Today she is still married

With divorce not far away,

It takes two fools to make a marriage

I once heard some fool say.

 

Stewart Russell © March 21, 2025

 

Another Moronic Quarrel

 

 

Can’t get along with

Can’t get along without

But the fact they have stuck it out

Is without doubt.

 

 

Argument after argument

Quarrel after quarrel,

Where will this one end up?

Not even they can tell.

 

We need a bigger TV

We’ve outgrown this one,

Thirty-two years we have had it,

Time it was gone.

 

This is from Simpleton

Now hear Moron’s reply,

If it is not broken, don’t fix it!

With that she sighed.

 

But it’s too small, Moron

And difficult to see,

Ah, but my darling Simpleton,

Don’t blame the TV.

 

It is your spectacles

And I could wager a bet

So don’t blame the faithful TV,

Get a new set.

 

That’s what I mean, Moron,

Let us get a new TV set

And we would see everything better

And I won’t have to fret.

 

You’d still fret, my dear,

That’s your middle name

And should I give into you as always,

You’d win the game.

 

The TV shows perfect

Though just a thirteen inch

And I am sticking to my side:

I will not flinch.

 

But Moron, sweetie pie,

Pamper me, my dear,

Just take it out on hire purchase

With two years to pay.

 

All right, Simpleton,

Let me show you a fact,

This TV is bigger than all the rest

And I can prove that.

 

The TV that you’d wish,

What size television is it?

I would like a fifty-inch, Moron,

That would be a fit.

 

A fifty-inch, Simpleton!

Where did you see that?

Right here on our old television

From where I sat.

 

You saw a fifty-inch TV

On a thirteen-inch screen?

Why, in that case our TV is bigger-

Simpleton screamed.

 

It is very simple,

At least, it seems so to me

Anything would have to be smaller

To fit on our TV.

 

You are right, Moron,

I really didn’t see it so,

Anyhow, we still need a new TV

Cause a tube just blow.

 

What! A tube what?

You got to be kidding me!

Tell me the truth, Simpleton,

You mashed up the TV?

 

No, when I plugged it in

I just heard, “poof!”

It got tired carrying all that load-

That is my proof.

 

Why must a 13-inch TV

Carry a fifty-inch television?

Sooner or later, my dearest Moron,

It’d be out of commission.

 

So, buy a fifty inch

That can carry the load

And since we are now without a TV,

It’s an immediate goal.

 

A spanking new 50-inch

Stands on a TV stand

And the 13-inch TV sits on the top

As though a plan.

 

It started back working

As soon as the other arrived

And they are watched together-

Seriously, no jive.

 

Stewart Russell © August 4, 2025

 

Downsized Christmas Ham

 

 

The lead up to Christmas

Was extremely interesting

At the home of Mr. and Mrs. Moron,

Especially the baking.

 

You might be wondering

Why I am saying this

Well, just follow me very closely

And the point you won’t miss.

 

 

Every year Mr. Moron

Would buy a big ham,

To have a lot of ham for Christmas

Was always his plan.

 

But for some reason

His plan wouldn’t work out

And much of the Christmas ham

Was thrown out.

 

 

 

Mrs. Moron was the one

Who dealt with the ham

And clearly by now you should see

Her plan was not his plan.

 

Nothing new here,

I can tell you for a fact

For if you truly know the Morons

You’d see it in their chat.

 

Year after year

Mr. Moron would let it ride

But he decided this time around

He would stem the tide.

 

 

“Every year I buy a ham

And before you bake it

You does throw away some

As an annual habit”

 

To me, Simpleton,

Dat don’t make sense

And I am letting you know

I taking offense.

 

Why do you do dis?

Are you mad?

And if it was only a little bit

It won’t be so bad.”

 

 

“Well Moron,” she replied,

“I see my mother do it

And she uses to take off a lot

Not just a little bit.

 

I ask she one day

And she couldn’t tell me why,

She mother before she did it

And she didn’t even try.

 

That was de practice

Handed down to she

And as a good parent like she mother

She hand down it to me.”

 

 

“Whuh, I so sorry

That I en ask this before,

From now on I dun buying big hams

Anymore.

 

Cause it en mek no sense

Trowing away all o’ dat ham,

Dat to my way of tinking

Is not a good plan.”

 

 

“But Moron,

It ain’t ‘bout de size o’ de ham,

It is de tradition passed down

From my gran-gran.

 

And you see de little girl

Dat we got dey?

She gine have to do it too

Cause dat is de way”

 

 

And with that

Simpleton cuts off the ham,

Compliments of de culture

And her gran-gran.

 

When ovens were small

And hams wouldn’t hold

The ham had to be trimmed

Is what I was told.

 

Pass this on

To people who don’t know,

Begin with the Morons

But take it slow.

 

Stewart Russell © December 16, 2024

 

More on Moron

 

 

Moron by name

Moron by nature,

When it comes to being silly

Moron is a fixture.

 

 

Moron is married

To Mrs. Moron of course

And all the trying they do

They can’t get divorce.

 

They don’t get along

But can’t get away

And they have been like this

For many a year.

 

Incident after incident

Frequent and weird,

Here is another one of them;

Don’t be scared.

 

They were all alone,

No one else was around,

They had retired to their beds

And were lying down.

 

Mr. Moron snores

But Mrs. Moron does not,

She has never heard herself;

He thinks it’s rot.

 

She set out to prove

That she does not snore,

She’s been listening attentively

More and more.

 

 

“No evidence,” she says,

“I’ve been listening a lot,

I haven’t heard a single snore

While sleeping on my cot.”

 

 

“You can’t hear well,”

Mr. Moron countered,

“So, your no evidence tells me

You’re off your rocker."

 

So, this night in question

They were both asleep,

They were so dead to the world

They couldn’t hear a peep.

 

Quietly she awoke

As not to disturb him

And there lay with her eyes open

Taking in the night’s din.

 

She checked the clock

It was half-past two,

She slept not another wink

Convinced of her view.

 

“I know I don’t snore,”

She convinced herself,

“It’s he that has the problem

Of poor mental health.”

 

The clocked alarmed

On the dot of six

And she woke up Mr. Moron

With some cuffs and kicks.

 

He slept strongly

And didn’t like to wake

So, rousing him from deep sleep

Was no cake.

 

She finally woke him

After quite a chore

And she excitedly blurted out,

“I tell you I don’t snore.”

 

 

“How did you find out?”

He sleepily responded,

“I was up all night listening,”

She angrily rebounded.

 

 

“From half-past two

I was up until six

And the only snoring I heard,

Came from your lips.”

 

  

“I know I snore,

I have no argument there

And though I’ve never heard,

I really don’t care.

 

As for you

You could not snore all you like

But please don’t wake me up

In the middle of the night.”

 

 

Mrs. Moron was annoyed

At this stupid man

And right there and then

She came up with a plan.

 

She had to convince him

That she didn’t snore

And she made a determination

He would sleep no more.

 

At least, until he admitted

That she didn’t snore

Her poor moronic husband

Would sleep no more.

 

 

Every night thereafter

He had to be awake

And she couldn’t sleep either

Until it was too late.

 

 

And since neither slept

Neither could snore

So, Mr. Moron agreed she didn’t

And they fought no more.

 

See how easy that was?

Morons are smart,

With Mr. and Mrs. Moron

It was so from the start.

 

Here is the question:

Who made the more sense?

This would be Mr. Moron of course

Ladies, take no offense.

 

Stewart Russell © July 2, 2024