Diminishing Returns

Aghast I stand as I behold
An infant win his weight in gold,
By answering on a TV quiz
just who Father Christmas is.
A little boy, his fortune made,
Appears upon the hit parade;
A sweetly singing cherubim
Who wants Dianne to stay by him.
With entertainers growing younger
The older ones will die of hunger,
While yet the Boston Pops may greet us
Conducted by a smiling fetus.