Life, 1921-12-01 · page 34 of 58
Life — December 1, 1921 — page 34: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous poem by Ted Robinson that satirizes the difficulty of writing Christmas poetry. The "ballad of an annual difficulty" playfully complains that "Christmas" is nearly impossible to rhyme, making the poet's job maddening each December. Robinson personifies the struggle: an incompetent poet forced to produce holiday verses despite lacking talent ("a brain that never went to school"), resorting to awkward forced rhymes and tortured language. He imagines the "fatal handicap" of trying to compose something meaningful when the central word resists rhyming—depicting the poet stammering, moping, and failing. The joke targets the annual tradition of magazine Christmas content: editors demand festive holiday material, but the core word "Christmas" offers limited rhyming options, condemning even willing poets to produce clumsy, strained verse. It's self-aware mockery of *Life* magazine's own seasonal editorial challenges, playfully blaming linguistic constraints rather than writer incompetence for weak holiday doggerel.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ballade of an Annual Difficulty ) HO named the Best of Holidays Was little better than a foul; Sts rough cacophony betrays A brain that never ment to school. Or else upon a diee’s stool Chat rarless vaf was forced to climb, To mop and mow and grin and drool— Sor “Christmas” hasn't any rhyme! Would that some bard had earned his bays Ere yet the name had time to cool, And changed it to a lilting phrase— We had not known such teen and dle; ‘Tis mith a sorry, broken tool We beat upon the srason’s chime, And Pegasus balks like a mule, a: Sa ) For “Christmas” hasn't any rhyme. | Go, while the rooms with randles blaze, And mirth and youthful laughter rule, A fatal handicap delays The port in the vestibule! Who'll chide him for his failure? Who'll Reproach him at this crucial time? Well may he stamuner, mope and pule, For “Christmas” hasn't any rhyme! L Envi Consistency, thou art a jool, And though the substitute’s a lime, We'll wish thee, Lite, a Merry Yule, For “Christmas” hasn't any rhyme! j Ted Robinson comicbooks.com