King John Was Not A Good Man

Well hello friends, hope you had a very Merry Christmas. (Did you?) I did, thank you very much. Relaxing because I stayed in my pj’s ’til about 4 p.m. on Christmas Day. Yep, I did that. Just because I could. And I wanted to. And so did my boys. Love a laid back, relaxed Christmas day. Then the mad scramble of getting ready for extended family arriving for dinner at 5 starts about 4. I had a New England Beef Stew simmering in the crockpot all day. So it’s not like we scrambled making dinner or anything. Just getting out of pj’s and cleaning up the morning carnage. (The nature of the scramble.)

Plus I made the ganache for the Brick Street Chocolate Cake. Had a near catastrophe. While my back is turned stirring the ganache, Hudson pilfers a large chunk (read:fistful) from the cake. He’s no fool. (Hudson’s five, has Down syndrome.) Had to pry his determined little clamped fingers from around that chunk, piece it back on the cake. Nobody knew the difference. (‘Til now.)

So anyway, in the spirit of the season, I’m sharing King John Was Not A Good Man today from King John’s Christmas. A favorite of mine. If you know A. A. Milne at all, you know he was the clever, winsome creator of Winnie the Pooh and all the adventures in the Hundred Acre Wood. He also wrote a slew of other poems.

I’ve always been an A. A. Milne fan, likely because my grandmother gave me his book Now We Are Six on my sixth birthday. (Timing is everything.) I read and re-read the book as a child and find myself returning to it often as an adult.

She gave me the actual Now We Are Six book that she and my grandfather read aloud to each other while courting in 1927. I know. What to say? This book is very precious to me. Then my grandmother had the book rebound for my 6th birthday in 1978. (How old am I?)

She’s been gone over a decade now, and I love having this little piece of her. Can still hear her reading this King John’s Christmas poem aloud. A favorite that delighted me. A couple years ago my Jon and I acted it out for a “talent” show at church. I use the words act and talent loosely. I was the narrator, Jon – King John.

• Kingly robe (ratty old bathrobe)
• Scepter (read: toilet plunger)
• Crown (Burger King)

Oh my, did we have a “ball.” (Pun intended.) Hope you find a special place in your heart for King John today. Humor me this once and listen along.

King John Was Not a Man Good Man

(I’ll do my best to read it as my grandmother might have. She somehow kept a straight face at the funny parts.)

King John was not a good man,
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air –
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.

King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon …
But no one came to tea.

And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.

King John was not a good man,
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They’d given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.

King John was not a good man,
He lived his life aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.

He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
“TO ALL AND SUNDRY –
NEAR AND FAR –
F. CHRISTMAS IN PARTICULAR.”
And signed it not “Johannes R.”
But very humbly, “JACK.”

“I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don’t mind oranges,
I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red india-rubber ball!”

King John was not a good man –
He wrote this message out,
And gat him to his room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
A prey to hopes and fears.
“I think that’s him a-coming now,
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
“He’ll bring one present, anyhow –
The first I’ve had for years.

“Forget about the crackers,
And forget about the candy;
I’m sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don’t like oranges,
I don’t want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocket-knife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red india-rubber ball!”

King John was not a good man –
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly:
“As I feared, Nothing again for me!”

“I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts.
I haven’t got a pocket-knife –
Not one that cuts.
And, oh! if Father Christmas had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red india-rubber ball!”

King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all…
When through the window big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india-rubber ball!

AND OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS, MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL
FOR BRINGING HIM A BIG, RED INDIA-RUBBER BALL!

A.A. Milne

Bless you Father Christmas!

Friends – have a wonderful rest of your Christmas weekend with family and friends. Hope all the cards you received were not only from yourself. (Giggle.)

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