Season’s greetings — but which season?

Bush fires start much earlier now.

When the country’s devastated,

What joy will light the Christmas hour?

Stumps of houses, chimneys blackened,

Nowhere for Santa Claus to stop!

No trees this year decked with tinsel,

They’re just a charred and cheerless crop.

With all our presents wrapped in dust,

And no grass to feed the reindeer,

I hate to think of Christmas morn;

It will get worse year after year!

When climate change changes Christmas,

No Santa through the sky will dash.

Yes, we’ll still have our white Christmas —

But a Christmas all white with ash.