I stretched far out to reach that light.
(I see it almost every night.)
It's mine! I say! I saw it first.
I stretch to grab it - until I burst!

I'll use this light to scare the dark.
And with my light, I'll make a mark.
I might sell my light. To you. You know?
Or give to The Santa Show.

What's that you say?
It's not a light?
"Can't be!" I shout!
"You wanna fight?!"

The Moon, you say...a satellite?
It moves the tides throughout the night?

And it's made of cheese! (Some do claim?)
Arghhh! I say. There goes my fame!

I don't need that light!
I'll just take these, erm, ummmmm... Christmas lights!
They shine a message
through December nights.