‘Twas the week before Christmas, thro’ the house was the sound,
Of water dripping and running, like a faucet unbound.
On a mission I went, find the source follow the clues,
Stop the water, plug the leak or my sanity I’ll lose.
The culprit I found in a closet nice and tight,
The water heater of old had given up the fight.
So, I called out a plumber to get the job done.
He quoted a price and I wanted to run.
Hot water is key, so I said, “Go ahead,”
Then, I stared at my checkbook and went straight to bed.
A few hours he said, from work I stayed home,
I’ll work on my book, or read a new tome,
When from the hall closet there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
On a pail sat the plumber drenched in sweat,
He said, “The closet must come down,” and I started to fret.
He banged and he swore, but the old unit came out,
The new water heater he installed, but the closet was in doubt.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” He left with a limp,
I stared at the mess, and then cried like a wimp.
He came back the next day to put the closet aright,
The wood, frame and door put up quite the fight.
“Uncle,” he declared and called the job complete.
His face wore a frown and his head hung in defeat.
I heard him complain, ere he drove out of sight,
“Lose my number next time, I’m calling it a night.”