Gifts

As this festive time approaches its zenith, and as I begin my private chronicles of the world I explore, it seems only right to describe in some small detail, a supposition that I conceived of some years ago, and slowly refined over time.  It is a concept that, I confess, has received (to my admittedly limited knowledge) no serious study, and yet I think there is both merit and legitimacy to it.

So, without further ado, it is my proposition that Father Yule, the beloved gift-giving figure of legend so central to Yuletide, is Dwarvish in origin.

Oh, let me give to you
A truly special gift
A gift to make you happy
To give your heart to lift
For it's the time of year
To give but not receive
I'll offer you this present
Before its time to leave

So, will it be a picture
To put upon your wall?
A portrait of a dragon?
You'll hang it in your hall!
Or maybe I've been baking
Some food for you to eat?
A pie, or maybe biscuits
That taste so very sweet?