Bedford Falls Again
I’m home at last, although the place feels funny;
Then Mary, crowds of friends and that old souse,
Sweet Uncle Billy, all crash in with money
And shouts of cheer, until our drafty house
Seems like a gently glowing, golden forge.
As Zuzu tends the till, I start to speak
And feel, at once, that I’m a different George:
Like you, I’m not yet sure what we’ve all come to,
But it’s just wonderful you’d help a lout
Discover he’s the richest one among you,
While you’re still forced to scrimp and do without.
I grab the brimming basket from my daughter.
Come on then, folks, let’s bail out Mr. Potter!
I put this up as "Merry Christmas, Bedford Falls" around the holidays, but it seemed appropriate.
Frank
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-- Frank
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