Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our house
Not a computer was humming, not even the click of a mouse.
Our stockings were hung on the wall with some care,
In hopes that some candy would somehow appear there.
Lulu was nestled all snug in our bed,
While visions of world domination danced in her head.
And Gilly in her ‘kerchief, and I in my jays,
Had just settled our brains for the coming holidays.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I ran like The Flash,
Tore open the curtains and knocked over the trash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of Edward Cullen to the objects from below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight weary reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
He might even have been supersonic.
More rapid than a Ferrari this Santa he came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called me by name!
“Hey Patrick! Hey Gilly! Hey Lulu, you Vixen!
I’ve got a package! A present! Something you’re wishin’!
Now open the door! Answer my call!
Before I dash away! Dash away! Dash away to the mall!”
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from below
The tinkling and crashing of a glass window.
As I ran down the stairs to see what was the matter,
Through the broken window he fell in a drunken clatter.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
A filthy old fat man tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his breath smelled of sherry!
His drooling little mouth was open in an “O,”
And the beard of his chin was covered in snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his stained teeth,
And the smoke it smelled like a six-month old wreath.
He had a broad face and a big round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a tubful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a pre-diabetic old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Gave me the wiggins and a chill of pure dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And took all our stockings, what a filthy old jerk!
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He hocked a loogie! How gross!
He dashed to his sleigh, our goodies in tow,
I tried to catch him but alas I was too slow.
But I heard him exclaim, as he fled into the night,
“Happy Christmas to me!” and vanished out of my sight.
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Gilly
Patrick
