For years, Cownopy dreamed of helping St. Nick, Who’d long used his scroll—a system quite thick. Each Christmas she’d ask, with a cheerful little moo, “Wouldn’t it be easier if your list were new?”
But Santa would smile, with a shake of his head, “This scroll has worked fine for all years,” he said.
One stormy December, the scroll met its fate— Snowy winds blew it—a chaotic state! The names were all lost, the order was gone, Santa stood puzzled, “How can Christmas go on?”
In trotted Cownopy, her bells jingling bright, “Perhaps it’s now time for a little insight?” Santa, at last, gave her idea a try, “Let’s see if you can help us get by.”
She handed the elves a neat little slate, They logged all the names, no paper, no weight. The list was restored, both naughty and nice, And Santa’s workshop was running precise.
On Christmas Eve, as the sleigh took flight, Santa called out, “You’ve made things just right! Thank you, dear Cownopy, for all that you do—
Merry Christmas to all, and a brighter year too!”