One Christmas Maria was playing with toys,
Given to her by other girls and boys.
Her favorite one yet, she had often said,
Was a nutcracker dressed in grey, yellow and red.
This new toy made Maria happy and glad.
It looked perfect with the one she already had.
The old one had poofy hair, a belt 'cross its shirt.
The new one, twin ponytails and a skirt.
They could really open nuts, unlike those other fakers.
Both nutcrackers came from the very same makers.
Pull the head up then down to crack nuts.
That's how it worked, no ifs ands or buts.
Maria loved her nutcrackers, loved making up stories.
She named one of them Trixie and the other was Mortie.
But they could not fit in her little dollhouse:
But then again, neither could a mouse.
So Maria rest her toys up on a shelf;
She aimed them so that they looked down on herself.
The room lights went on, the sunlight to simmer;
It was time for Maria to head down for dinner.
A few hours later, Maria came back,
And removed her nutcrackers from the top of the stack.
She played with her toys, making all sorts of sounds,
Then her face changed to puzzled when she turned them around.
On their backs were keys-not the type used on doors.
Why didn't Maria notice them before?
She set Trixie down and put two hands on Mortie.
An animate doll could sweeten her story.
Maria put her small fingers on Mortie's big key,
And give it one turn, then two turns and three.
The toy's arms and legs, they started to shake;
It fell off her hands, and it began to make.
"I'm free," said Mortie, "I'm free, I'm free,"
"Did you know this would happen when you turned my key?"
Mortie set Trixie upright, and wound her key aroo.
And soon enough, Trixie was animate too!
Poor Maria didn't know what to say.
And the next thing she knew, the dolls ran away.
The nutcracker girl and the nutcracker boy,
Ran far as they could for a Christmas-themed toy.
A stray nutcracker with blonde hair and a key,
Was found and wound up, and now there were three.
Outside the house, their keys fully wound,
Now to find a place they couldn't be found.
They settled on an area they'd conduct their lark:
The one place Maria wouldn't find them...Central Park!
And off they went, amidst the snowy slush.
(They stayed building-side so they wouldn't be crushed.)
They marveled at all the fun to be had,
And didn't care that Maria was back home feeling sad.
Maria laid down, looking up at the sky:
Her favorite toys missing, she began to cry.
Christmas is supposed to be happy, no excuse.
Lemme tell you bout writing poems: It's no Dr. Seuss.
The nutcrackers were having the time of their lives,
Throwing snowballs and dancing on ice.
There's nothing more that they want to treasure,
Than running around and enjoying the pleasure.
At nightfall, the little toys built a castle,
In snow 'stead of sand, to relieve them of the hassle.
Trixie prepared to add the last touch in a hop,
When all of the sudden, her giant key stopped.
Her balance lost, her sentience gone,
She fell into the snow, the depth anon.
Mortie and the newbie stopped moving also,
They fell forward-keyside up maybe-I dunno.
Maria found them the very next day:
Central Park is not as big as they say.
She took her toys Trixie and Mortie home,
and the third one as well: she 'threw it a bone'!
Let this be a lesson to those who own nutcrackers.
Use them for cracking nuts, you adventure-seeking slacker.
Just pull the head up, then down to crack nuts.
That's how they work, no ifs ands or buts.
But the true moral here, this you really must see,
Beware of nutcrackers that have wind-up keys.