The Middle Child's Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas in some other house
the first born and last born were quiet as a mouse.
the first born and last born were quiet as a mouse.
The one creature stirring, I probably should mention,
was the Middle Child constantly seeking attention.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
still the Middle Child complained, “Theirs are bigger, no fair!”
While the oldest and youngest were snug in their bed,
visions of hand-me-downs danced in his head.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
were so sick and tired of his Middle Child crap.
now what was he up to, now what was the matter?
My wondering eyes through the window could see,
a person I’ve seen many times on TV.
a person I’ve seen many times on TV.
She whined and she moaned, did this blonde haired young lady,
I knew in a moment it must be Jan Brady!
“Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” I heard her exclaim,
“She gets all the glory, I get all the blame.
If just for one day I could feel like the favorite,
I’d relish the moment, and always would savor it.”