'Twas a Chiropractic Christmas

'Twas a Chiropractic Christmas, but there was no cheer, No jingle bells jingled, no sound of reindeer. The word had gone out that Santa was sick. There'd be no friendly visit from jolly St. Nick.

The people were sad; no gaiety sounded.
For Christmas had come, but Santa was grounded.
He drove down the road, and what should he see?
But a sign for a doctor who was a D.C.

Now, Santa was not one to like a new tactic,
But all else failed, so he'd try Chiropractic.
He entered the office, and saw at a glance
In a place such as this, illness hasn't a chance.

The office staff smiled, the music was snappy,
With all of the patients contented and happy.
In a very short time, to judge by the clock,
He was in the adjustment room, talking to Doc.

"It must be the hurry, the tension and all. I simply can't seem to get on the ball. Life used to be easy, just toys, guns and whistles, Now I have to dodge smog, spaceships, and missiles."

"And, Doc, take a look at the size of this pack!
Have you any idea what it does to my back?"
Poor Santa was miserable; just barely able
With the help of Dr. Hume, to get on the table.

The doctor was gentle.  Without fuss or tussle
She examined the vertebrae and relaxed every muscle.
She spotted the trouble, and then, with a click
Started aligning the ailing St. Nick.

And Santa felt aches and pains slipping away.
In no time at all he began to feel gay.
The air was atingle with new fallen snow.
And healthy Kris Kringle was rarin' to go.

As he went out the door, he threw them a kiss. Why, it had been centuries since he felt as good as this! Then once more, he shouldered the bag full of toys, His heart overflowing with true Christmas joys.

Merry Christmas!