"Only one week 'til Christmas!" the elves said excited,
"We've got to keep working!" the joy, none could hide it.
They wired and bolted, they drilled and they hammered,
these elves did it all, with spirits enamored.
Toys of all kinds, gizmos and gadgets,
the latest in widgets, in dollies and jackets.
All was on schedule, all in the clear;
until all of a sudden, a problem appeared.
The issue, you'll find, a problem that's massive,
needs first some explaining and then some antacids.
For true is the fact that Santa brings presents,
in a sleigh with nine reindeer, that story: quite pleasant.
He travels real fast, and flies! Yes, that's true,
but three-hundred million of stops he must do.
And if you love physics or math more than cake,
you'd know with all that speed, poor Santa'd be baked.
So long, long ago Chris Kringle he planned,
and hired two carriers to meet the demand.
They helped, did a fair job, but what really irked:
the rates, fees, and rules–those two, quite the jerks!
No option, ago, did Santa he have,
so kept doing business and paying like mad.
Year after year those fees and rates grew,
which leads to our story (that's long overdue).
For while all were working, the Mrs. came fast,
and showed Santa papers which then made him gasp!
"No, this can't be!" Santa said loudly,
the elves, they stopped working, to listen more soundly.