This is a bit out of season, but I don't have any Rosh Hashanah monorhymes.
Tum-ta-tum-ta-tum-parum-pum-pum-pum
December’s here and hear the thrum
that crummy kid creates; the dumb
and droning, moaning hum of hum-
bug fills a mall with every strum,
just like a film of sugar scum.
It cloaks and gums the shopping slum,
where Santa’s just a dressed-up bum,
until I think my mind is numb.
But, hey, these complementary rum-
laced egg-nogs go down well; and come
to think on it, why be so glum
when everything here tastes so yum?
More doubles please, Miss Sugar Plum –
parum pum pum pum – one’s for my chum.
Him and his drum.
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