Every Menno down in Waterloo liked Christmas a lot,
Except for Mr. Gingerich who certainly DID NOT!
Gingerich hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
The gifts and the songs and that old Mrs. Friesen.
“Oh, why did we let a Russian Menno in here?”
Wondered sad Mr. Gingerich with a sigh and a sneer.
The Mennonites of Waterloo had wanted a change,
“But their food is so foreign and their accent is strange!”
The Friesens were permitted, if just for a test,
And Friesens, being Friesens, did what Friesens did best.
They baked and they boiled and cooked up a feast,
Of schmaunt fat and cracklings and lots of roast beast.
But old Mr. Gingerich could not stand to eat.
The sausage was too salty and the syrup was too sweet.
“Soon it will be Christmas and then what will that bring?
Nothing but presents and games and four-part singing!”
He went to the church and looked down from the top,
“They can do it in Winkler, but here it must stop!”
So he hatched up a scheme, while the rest were in song.
“I have an idea: let’s say everything’s wrong!”
He spoke to the elders who agreed with his plan.
“Joy can’t be from God. It must be from man.”
And so it came out, as if by royal decree:
“Christmas must end!” said the elders with glee.
“Laughing and playing and speaking out of place,
Will get you a shunning and a pie in the face.”
So the Mennos became somber and the season got dark,
The lights were turned off and the whole town was stark.
There was no celebration of the saviour’s birth,
No gifts and no gatherings and certainly not mirth.
Until little Cindy of Waterloo, stood out from the crowd.
“I have something to say, if I may be allowed.
I think we’ve been fooled, we’ve followed their trick.
Why must Christmas be dreadful, and awful, and sick?”
Then wee little Cindy held out her wee little hand.
“Hello, Mr. Gingerich,” as she helped him to stand.
Then she hauled out a hymnal, and turned to a page.
At first he was furious and started to rage.
Cindy grabbed for his hand, his fingers like sticks.
And pointed to the words of Hymn 606.
And with tears in his eyes, Gingerich started to glow.
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
“It’s been years,” he said, “since I’ve sung this song.”
“It’s been years,” he repeated. “It should not have been so long.”
“So bring on Christmas!” he said with a smile.
“Let’s get out the Dutch Blitz and stay for a while!”
So the Mennos in Waterloo decided to play,
While Mr. Gingerich’s heart grew three sizes that day.