Marley pushed up daisies; snarly Scrooge survivin’;
known around town as a scoundrel skinflint swine.
Creepy, addled, he skedaddled home post-yellin’,
“Bob, slob, hobnob not, keep job, pull fob, log time!”

(Not only nasty, but also snide)

Guy scored coins with dentition to ensure metal
was countable, not the counterfeiter’s art.
At figures he’d never make an error;
dismissed riffraff and hoi-poloi.
One night spirits appeared; one took him back
to early years. . .saw how he got a hardened heart.

Epiphany in dark. . .good thing they’d shown up!

Cratchit got sup and some extra salary paid,
baffled by the scornful old man’s morn restart.
He was gen’rous and had lost ire-sour. . .
seemed anointed with will to care.
Bad man trying to kindle the fire
that had gone out; his aim was to make it re-spark.

Cratchit got Tim the tiny fine with healing arts,
and soon Scrooge was excelling playing his new part.
A giant turkey on the Cratchit platter parked. . .
more than a snack for Cratchits. . .smothered in broiled larks.
So, as a new man, Scrooge had surely made his mark.
Diff. twixt old Scrooge and new could not have been more stark.

(“God bless us, everyone!” was Tiny Tim’s remark.)