The Night Before Christmas
Parody Page

(with apologies to C. C. Moore)




  
Twas the Night
By L. Daniel Quinn

Twas the night before Christmas and poor Clement Moore
Had his poem being copied by many a bore
His "Night Before Christmas" is perfect in rhyme
His rhythm and cadence are wonderfully fine.

But then come the wise guys, with Internet cool
Who use Clement's rhyme as sort of a tool
They pick up the style from this poem of "that night"
And they hitch up their sled to whatever's their gripe.

Now I'm not even saying that there's something not right
By using Moore's poem to carry a fight.
I guess my complaint is not in their chore
But the number of times they steal from Clem Moore.

So I say to you all as I close down this gripe
"Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night!"




Computer Versions
The Night Before Crisis An AOL Night Before Christmas The Worm Before Christmas
Twas the Night Before Christmas in UseNet The Net Before Christmas I The Net Before Christmas II
The Night Before Christmas (Revisited) 'Twas the Night Before Start-up A Networkologist's Christmas (v. 950)
A Hacker's Night Before Christmas Twas The Byte Before Computing My Night Before Christmas
A Computer Christmas Nightmare The Byte Before Christmas Twas the Night Before Rollout



Political Versions
Twas the Newt Before Christmas Government Shutdown A Visit From St.Hick
A Marion Barry Christmas The Night Before Gingrinch Twas A Night In The
White House
Twas the Night Before Impeachment I Twas the Night Before Impeachment II Twas the Night Before Impeachment III
Twas the Night Before Impeachment IV Twas the Night Before Impeachment V Twas the Night Before Impeachment VI
Twas the Night Before Impeachment VII



Geographical Versions
Night Before Christmas in the Bronx Christmas Eve in Brooklyn Wuz De Nite Befo Crimmus In Da Hood
Merry Christmas From Guam English Night Before Christmas A Tex-Mex Night Before Christmas
The Night Before Vegas A Viking Night Before Christmas The Night Before Christmas (Texas Style)
Da Night Befo' Christmas, Hey, Ho! - 'Twas a Florida Christmas Christmas Italian Style



Other Versions
A Star Treking Night Before Christmas A Dieter's Christmas Politically Correct Santa
A Final Visit From Saint Nicholas Twas the Night Before Solstice A Wordy Night Before Christmas
Night Before Thanksgiving I Night Before Thanksgiving II The Night Before christmas, Legally Speaking
An 'AA' Night Before Christmas Assembly Required The Night Before Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas at the Airport
One Crazy Cool Yule The Set Before Christmas Twas the Department Store Before Christmas
Bah Humbug Christmas 'Twas the Fight Before Christmas Twas the Mall Before Christmas
'Twas Hallowe'en! Twas the Night Before a Harley Christmas A Homebrewer's Night Before Christmas
The Effect Of Inflation On Santa 'Twas the Cop's Night Before Christmas Twas the Kitchen Tired Cook
Twas The Inner City Night Before Christmas Twas the Night Before Christmas(RA Version) Twas The Hospital's Night Before Christmas
Twas the Night Before Christmas For Moms A Yuppie Christmas Poem A Christmas poem...
Twas Nascar Before Christmas I Twas Nascar Before Christmas II 'Twas the Night Before Raceday
Yuppie Christmas... Christmas Worms Twas the Night Before Christmas In Prison
Mystery Of Rudolph Rudolph's Night Off The Night Before Christmas (As Told by Santa Claus)
A TWA Christmas A Triage Nurse's Night Before Christmas A Truckin Christmas Story
Once Upon a Christmas Eve The Unabomber's Night Before Xmas Twas the Night Before (on the Union Pacific)
Twas the Night Before Gift Giving Twas a Fireman's Night Before Christmas Another Night Before Christmas
The Day After Christmas 'Twas the Night After Christmas I 'Twas the Night After Christmas II



Adult Versions
The Night Before Christmas Adult I The Night Before Christmas Adult II The Night Before Christmas Adult III
The Night Before Christmas Adult IV The Night Before Christmas Adult V The Night Before Christmas Adult VI
'Twas the Night After Christmas Ole Saint Nark Twas a Divorce's Night Before Christmas
A Christmas Story For The Deliquint In All Of Us A Little Christmas Cheer Epic Of Santa
'Twas A Pervert's Night Before Christmas Real Santa The 'Net before Christmas
'Twas The Night Before New Years The Joint Before Christmas



Redneck Versions
'Twas the Night After Christmas The Night Before a Redneck Christmas I The Night Before a Redneck Christmas II
The Night Before a Redneck Christmas III The Night Before a Redneck Christmas IV The Night Before a Redneck Christmas V
The Night Before a Redneck Christmas VI



Animal Versions
The Bivalves' Night Before Christmas The Day Before Christmas The Night Before Catmas
The Cat's Night Before Christmas



Armed Forces Versions
Have A Stealth Christmas Navy version of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.' Twas the Night Before Christmas, Militia Style
Twas the Night Before Christmas, MP Style Twas the Night Before Christmas, Armed Forces Style The Lonely Soldier Before Christmas



School Versions
The Night Before Midterms Chemistry Christmas The Week Before Christmas In School
Night Before Christmas (Thanks for good Teachers) 'Twas the Night Before Orals



Jewish Versions
Twas the Night Before Chanukah I Twas the Night Before Chanukah II Twas the Night Before Chanukah III
Twas the Month after Chanukah



Y2K Versions
'Twas the Night Before 2000 'Twas the Night Before Y2K Twas the Week After Christmas



Twas the Night before Christmas,
and at the North Pole,
Santa's sleigh was packed tight,
reindeer ready to go.

When out in the snow,
there arose such a clatter,
St. Nick sprang from the can,
to see what was the matter.

"The Elves are on strike!"
cried Mrs. Claus with disdain.
"What shall we do, Santa?
C'mon rack your fat brain!"

Santa's face, it did sparkle,
he shouted "Merry Christmas to all!"
He dashed to the coat closet,
And grabbed his 16 pound ball.

Santa was laughing so hard,
his stomach was rolling,
"Come on old woman,
it's time for elf bowling..."

Yes, Virginia...There really is Elf Bowling

Download and Play Elf Bowling
(Note: 1.104 megabytes)





 "Twas the Newt Before Christmas"
 By Dean Bakopoulus

 'Twas the night before Christmas and throughout the White House
 Al Gore was eyeing Hillary, peering into her blouse.
 The Secret Service men were guarding the premises with care,
 for a whole host of Democrats were vacationing there.

 Chelsea was nestled all snug in her bed
 after locking out Mr. Kennedy and the dirty thoughts in his head.
 And Bill in his sportcoat;  a heavy grey tweed,
 had just fried his brain with some Mexican weed.

 When out in the garden came a plethora of noise,
 all drunken and rowdy:  'twas Gingrich and the boys!
 Bill jumped to the window, and tore open the sash,
 "It's a raid boys!"  he cried, "Quick, go hide my stash!"

 The pot in his blood and the moon on the snow
 gave a psychedelic haze to the objects below.
 When what to Bill's frantic eyes should appear,
 but a slew of Republicans and a keg of ice beer,

 with a big old leader, all lively and fat;
 He knew it was Newt, "Proponent of GATT!"
 As vicious as vipers, the Republicans came,
 and Bill recognized them and called them by name.

 "Hey Helms!  Hey Thurmond! Hey Packwood and Hatch!
 Hey Dole and Pataki, it's time for a bash!"
 A collective cheer rose out from the crowd,
 "Let's listen to Nugent, and turn it up loud!"

 Together Dems and Republicans danced and sang out in cheer,
 "Screw Health Care and Haiti, it's time to drink beer!"
 When from the chimney, came a blinding black cloud of soot,
 and Limbaugh danced from the fireplace in a red Santa suit.

 He moved through the crowd, then held up his hand
 and when all was silent, he did a keg stand.
 And the crowd raised their cups, as Newt bowed down in prayer,
 and champagne flowed freely, just like welfare.

 As Kennedy and Reno romped in the Green Room,
 the rest of the crooks outlined their Hidden Agenda of Doom:
 "We'll pray in schools, we'll shove it down their throats!"
 "More welfare, more taxes, we'll still get the votes!"

 And they drank, hugged and danced, they crossed party lines,
 and they cheered, "It doesn't matter, we're all bastard swines!"
 So they threw out allegiance and partisan crap
 and took turns sitting on the president's lap.

 And Gephardt and Dole passed out on the lawn,
 and awoke in the morning without their pants on.
 And Packwood gave Tipper a pat on the rear,
 while Judge Thomas and Miss Hill went out for more beer.

 Then the party-goers discovered a sight so touching and cute,
 President Clinton fast asleep, snuggled up next to Newt.
 Santa Limbaugh smiled and threw up on his boots,
 "A Merry Clinton to all, and to all a good NEWT!"




The Night Before Crisis

'Twas the night before crisis, and all through the house,
Not a program was working, not even a browse.
The programmers were wrung out, too mindless to care,
knowing chances of cutover hadn't a prayer.
The users were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out in the lobby there arose such a clatter,
that I sprang from my tube to see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a Super Programmer, oblivious to fear.
More rapid than eagles, his programs that came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
On Update!  On Add!  On Inquiry!  On Delete!
On Batch Jobs!  On Closing!  On Functions Complete!
His eyes were glazed over, his fingers were lean,
from weekends and nights in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
soon let me know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
turning specs into code, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger on the ENTER key,
the system came up and worked perfectly.
The system was finished, the tests were concluded.
The client's last changes were even included!
And the client exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for, but not what I want."




Politically Correct Santa
  by Harvey Ehrlich

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves",
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.

And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.

And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.

Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose

And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,

Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.

Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.

Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.

For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.

Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.

He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;

Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."




Christmas Eve in Brooklyn
by Joe Quesada and Jimmy Palmiotti

'Twas the night before Christmas,
Da whole house was mellow,     
Not a creature was stirrin',
I had a gun unda my pillow.

When up on da roof'
I heard somethin' pound,
I sprung to da window,
To scream, "YO! Keep it down!"

When what to my
Wanderin' eyes should appear,
But dat hairy elf Vinny,
And eight friggin' reindeer.

Wit' a bad hackin' cough,
And da stencha burped beer,
I knew in a moment
Yo, da Kringle wuz here! 

Wit' a slap to dere snouts,
And a yank on dere manes,
He cursed and he shouted,
And he called dem by name.

"Yo Tony, Yo Frankie,
Yo Sally, Yo Vito,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie,
Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!"

As I drew out my gun
And hid by da bed,
Down came his friggin' boot
On da top a my head.

His eyes were all bloodshot,
His b.o. wuz scary,
His breath wuz like sewage,
He had a mole dat wuz hairy.

He spit in my eye,
And he twisted my head,
He soon let me know
I should consider myself dead.

Den pointin' a fat finga
Right unda my nose,
He let out some gas,
And up da chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh,
Obscenities screaming,
And away dey all flew,
Before he troo dem a beatin'.

But I heard him exclaim,
Or better yet grump,
"Merry Christmas to all, and
Bite me, ya hump!" 
 



 A Final Visit From Saint Nicholas

'Twas the night before Christmas and one thing was clear--
that old Yuletide spirit no longer was here
inflation was rising; the crime rate was tripling;
the fuel bills were up, and our mortgage was crippling;

I opened a beer as I watched the TV,
where Donny sang "O Holy Night" to Marie;
the kids were in bed, getting sleep like they should;
or else they were stoned, which was almost as good.

While Ma with her ball-point was making a fuss
'bout folks we'd send cards to who'd sent none to us;
"Those ingrates," she thundered, and pounded her fist;
"Next year you can bet they'll be crossed off our list!"

When out in the yard came a deafening blare;
'twas our burgler alarm, and I hollered, "Who's there?"
I turned on the searchlight, which lit up the night,
and, armed with my handgun, beheld a strange sight.

Some red-suited clown with a white beard immense
was caught in our eight foot electrified fence;
he called out, "I'm Santa!  I bring you no malice!"
Said I, "if you're Santa, I'm Telly Savalas!"

But, lo, as his pressence grew clear to me,
I saw in the glare that it just might be he!
called off our doberman clawing his sleigh
and, frisking him twice, said, "I think he's ok."

I led him inside where he slumped in a chair,
and he poured out the following tale of dispair;
"On Christmas eves past I was jolly and chuckling,
but now 'neath the pressures, I fear I am buckling."

"You'll note I've arrived with no reindeer this year,
and without them, my sleigh is much harder to steer;
although I would like to continue to use them,
the wildlife officials believe I abuse them."

"To add to my problem, Ralph Nader dropped by
and told me my sleigh was unsafe in the sky;
I now must wear seatbelts, despite my objections,
and bring in the sleigh twice a year for inspections."

"Last April my workers came forth with demands,
and I soon had a general strike on my hands;
I couldn't afford to pay unionized elves,
so the missus and I did the work ourselves."

"And then, later on, came additional trouble--
an avalanche left my fine workshop in rubble;
my Allstate insurance was worthless, because
they had shrewdly slipped in a 'no avalanche' clause."

"And after that came an I.R.S audit;
the government claimed I was out to defraud it;
they finally nailed me for 65 grand,
which I paid through the sale of my house and my land."

"And yet I persist, though it gives me a scare
flying blind through the blanket of smog in the air;
not to mention the hunters who fill me with dread,
taking shots at my sleigh as I pass overhead."

"My torn-up red suit, and these bruises and swellings,
I got fighting muggers in multiple dwellings.
And if you should ask, why I'm glowing tonight,
it's from flying too close to a nuclear site."

He rose from his chair and he heaved a great sigh,
and I couldn't help notice a tear in his eye;
"I've tried," he declared, "to reverse each defeat,
but I fear that today I've become obsolete."

He slumped out the door and returned to his sleigh,
and these last words he spoke as he went on his way;
"no longer can I do the job that's required;
if anyone asks, just say, 'Santa's retired!'".




A Dieter's Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all round my hips
were Fannie May candies that sneaked past my lips.
Fudge brownies were stored in the freezer with care
in hopes that my thighs would forget they were there.

While Mama in her my girdle and I in chin straps
had just settled down to sugar-borne naps.
When out in the pantry there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash
tore open the icebox then threw up the sash.
The marshmallow look of the new-fallen snow
sent thoughts of a binge to my body below.

When what to my wandering eyes should appear:
a marzipan Santa with eight chocolate reindeer!
That huge chunk of candy so luscious and slick
I knew in a second that I'd wind up sick.

The sweet-coated santa, those sugared reindeer
I closed my eyes tightly but still I could hear;
On Pritzker, on Stillman, on weak one, on TOPS
a Weight Watcher dropout from sugar detox.

From the top of the scales to the top of the hall
now dash away pounds now dash away all.
Dressed up in Lane Bryant from my head to nightdress
my clothes were all bulging from too much excess.

My droll little mouth and my round little belly
they shook when I laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
I spoke not a word but went straight to my work
ate all of the candy then turned with a jerk.

And laying a finger beside my heartburn
I gave a quick nod toward the bedroom I turned.
I eased into bed, to the heavens I cry
if temptation's removed I'll get thin by and by.

And I mumbled again as I turned for the night
in the morning I'll starve... 'til I take that first bite!




The Night Before a Redneck Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'Cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin Was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

That Bubba got scared And rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;
Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls So they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw."
Maw was expecting And needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door Without making a peep.

They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared; He could not say a word.
This was just like all of The stories he'd heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know; They was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin' And a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name.
"Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"

"Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, Or you'll make Santy fall!"
The dogs kept a-barkin' And wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer Got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care.

He was busy lookin' At all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas,  And the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!




 A TEX-MEX NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
   Jim and Nita Lee (Dec. 1972)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the casa,
Not a creature ws stirring -- Caramba!  Que pasa?
Los ninos were tucked away in their camas,
Some in long underwear, some in pijamas,
While hanging the stockings with mucho cuidado
In hopes that old Santa would feel obligado
To bring all children, both buenos and malos,
A nice batch of dulces and other regalos.
Outside in the yard there arose such a grito
That I jumped to my feet like a fightened cabrito.
I ran to the window and looked out afuera,
And who in the world do you think that it era?
Saint Nick in a sleigh and a big red sombrero
Came dashing along like a crazy bombero.
And pulling his sleigh instead of venados
Were eight little burros approaching volados.
I watched as they came and this quaint little hombre
Was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre:
"Ay Pancho, ay Pepe, ay Cuco, ay Beto,
Ay Chato, ay Chopo, Macuco, y Nieto!"
Then standing erect with his hands on his pecho
He flew to the top of our very own techo.
With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea,
He struggled to squeeze down our old chiminea,
Then huffing and puffing at last in our sala,
With soot smeared all over his red suit de gala,
He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos --
For none of the ninos had been very malos.
Then chuckling aloud, seeming very contento,
He turned like a flash and was gone like the viento.
And I heard him exclaim, and this is verdad,
Merry Christmas to all, and Feliz Navidad!




Government Shutdown

"Twas the week before Christmas and those sly little elves,
Our congressmen, labored to better themselves.
They cared not a whit what the public might think
"Let them eat cake," some said with a wink.
And putting their thumbs to the tip of their nose,
they waved as they shouted "Anything goes!"
They scoffed at the thought that we might object,
to a tax cut for the wealthy of a posh percent.
They've got prerequisites-franking, per diem, and more --
bargain-priced haircuts and gyms (three of four!)
Paid speaking engagements and meals on the cuff,
celebrity status - (they've sure got it tough!),
Yet they claim they're in touch with the man on the street,
as John Q. Public struggles to make both ends meet.

If all workers decided what they were due,
they'd be getting those fat paychecks too!
But while we take cutbacks or raises quite small,
and one out of 20 has no job at all,
our millionaire Congress decides on the budget
land trimming Medicare and Medicaid will do it, they say.
In this season for giving, our Congress is taking.
We've had it with them and our backs are breaking.
With hard times, disasters, and layoffs on our dockets,
we bit the bullet and they fill their pockets!

Oh jobless, oh homeless, oh desperate and needy -
dare anyone say our Congress is greedy?
If in this feeling I'm not alone,
take up your pen or pick up your phone.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
let the road of your anger mount to the sky.
Indignant, outraged, appalled and beset
let your congressman know that you won't forget!@
When election times comes - and certain it will -
you're voting him out for passing that bill.

More rapid than eagles, their elections assured
they toasted each other and laughed at the herd.
And I heard them exclaim with adjournment at hand,

"Merry Christmas to us, and the public (and Federal workers) be
damned!




 Twas the Night before Solstice
 by James Finn Garner

 Twas the night before solstice and all through the co-op
 Not a creature was messing the calm status quo up.

 The children all nestled all snug in the their beds,
 Dreaming of lentils and warm whole-grain breads.

 We'd welcomed the winter that day after school
 By dancing and drumming and burning the Yule,

 A more meaningful gesture to honor the planet
 Than buying more trinkets for Mom or Aunt Janet,

 Or choosing a tree just to murder and stump it
 And dress it all up like a seasonal strumpet.

 My lifemate and I, having turned down the heat,
 Slipped under the covers for a well-deserved sleep,

 When from out on the lawn there came such a roar
 I fell from my futon and rolled to the floor.

 I crawled to the window and pulled back the latch,
 And muttered, "Aw, where is that Neighborhood Watch?"

 I saw there below through the murk of the night
 A sleigh and eight reindeer of nonstandard height.

 At the reins of that sleigh sat a mean-hearted knave
 Who treated each deer like his persunal slave.

 I'd seen him before in some ads for car loans,
 Plus fast food and soft drinks and cellular phones.

 He must have cashed in from his mercantile chores,
 Since self-satisfaction just oozed from his pores.

 He called each by name, as if he were right
 To treat them like humans, entrenching his might:

 "Now Donner, now Blitzen," and other such aliases,
 Showing his true Eurocentrical biases.

 With a snap of his fingers, away they all flew,
 Like lumberjacks served up a plate of tofu.

 Up to the rooftop they carried the sleigh
 (The holes in the shingles are there to this day).

 Out bounded the man, who went straight to the flue.
 I knew in an instant just what I should do.

 After donning my slippers, downstairs did I dash
 To see the trespasser emerge from the ash.

 His clothes were all covered with soot, but of course,
 From our wood-fueled alternative energy source.

 Through the grime I distinguished the make of his duds --
 He was dressed all in fur, fairly dripping with blood.

 "We're a cruelty-free house!" I proclaimed with such heat
 He was startled and tripped on the logs at his feet.

 He stood back up dazed, but with mirth in his eyes.
 It was then that I noticed his unhealthy size.

 He was almost as wide as when standing erect,
 A lover of fatty fried foods, I suspect.

 But that wasn't all to make sane persuns choke:
 In his teeth sat a pipe that was belching out smoke!

 I could scarcely believe what invaded our house.
 This carcinogenic and overweight louse

 Was so red in the face from his energy spent,
 I expected a heart attack right there and then.

 Behind him he toted a red velvet bag
 Full to exploding with sinister swag.

 He asked, "Where is your tree?" with a face somewhat long.
 I said, "Out in the yard, which is where it belongs."

 "But where will I put all the presents I've brought?"
 I looked at him squarely and said, "Take the lot

 To some frivolous people who think that they need
 To succumb to the sickness of commerce and greed,

 "Whose only joy comes from the act of consuming,
 Thus sending the stock of the retailers booming."

 He blinked and said, "Ho, ho, ho!  But you're kidding."
 I gave him a stare that was stern and forbidding.

 "Surely the children need something with which to have fun?
 It's like childhood's over before it's begun."

 He looked in my eyes for some sign of assent,
 But I strengthened my will and refused to relent.

 "They have plenty of fun," I cut to the gist,
 "And your mindless distractions have never been missed.

 They take CPR so that they can save lives,
 And go door-to-door for the used clothing drives.

 "They recycle, renew, reuse -- and reveal
 For saving the planet a laudable zeal.

 When they padlock themselves to a fence to protest
 Against nuclear power, we think they're the best."

 He said, "But they're children -- lo, when do they play?"
 I countered, "Is that why you've driven your sleigh,

 To bring joy to the hearts of each child and tot?
 All right, open your bag; let's see what you've got."

 He sheepishly did as I'd asked and behold!
 A Malibu Barbie in a skirt made of gold.

 "You think that my girls will like playing with this,
 An icon of sexist, consumerist kitsch?

 "With it's unnatural and airheaded grin,
 This trollop makes every girl yearn to be thin,

 And take up fad diets and binging and purging
 Instead of respecting her own body's urging

 "To welcome the shape that her body has found
 And rejoice to be lanky, short, skinny, or round."

 Deep in his satchel he searched for a toy,
 Saying, "This is a hit with most little boys."

 And what did he put in my trembling hand
 But a gun from the BrainBlasters Power Command!

 "It's a 'hit,' to be sure," I sneered in his face,
 "And a plague to infect the whole human race!

 "How 'bout grenades or some working bazookas
 To turn all of our kids into half-wit palookas?"

 I seized on his bag just to see for myself
 The filth being spread by this odious elf.

 An Easy-Bake Oven -- ah, goddess, what perfidy!
 To hoodwink young girls into household captivity!

 Plus an archery play set with shafts that fly out,
 The very thing needed to put your eye out.

 And toy metal tractors, steam shovels, and cranes
 For tearing down woodlands and scarring the plains,

 Plus "games" like Monopoly, Pay Day, Tycoon,
 As if lessons in greed can't start up too soon.

 And even more weapons from BrainBlasters Co.,
 Like cannons and nunchucks and ray guns that glow.

 That's all I could find in his red velvet sack --
 Perverseness and mayhem to set us all back.

 (But I did find one book that caused me to ponder --
 Some fine bedtime tales by a fellow named Garner.)

 "We need none of this," I announced in a huff,
 "No 'business-as-usual' holiday stuff.

 "We sow in our offspring more virtue than this.
 Your 'toys' offer some things they never will miss."

 The big man's expression was a trifle bereaved
 As he shouldered his pack and got ready to leave.

 "I pity the kids who grow up around here,
 Who're never permitted to be of good cheer,

 Who aren't allowed leisure for leisure's own sake,
 But must fret every minute -- it makes my heart break!"

 "Enough histrionics!  Don't pity our kids
 If they don't do as Macy's or Toys 'R' Us bids.

 They live by their principles first and foremost
 And know what's important," to him did I boast.

 "Pray, could I meet them?" "Oh no, they're not here.
 They're up on the roof, liberating your deer!"

 Then Santa Claus sputtered and pointed his finger
 But, mad as he was, he had no time to linger.

 He flew up the chimney like smoke from a fire,
 And up on the roof I heard voices get higher.

 I ran outside the co-op to see him react
 To my children's responsible, kindhearted act.

 He chased them away, and disheartened, dismayed,
 He rehitched his reindeer (who'd docilely stayed).

 I watched with delight as he scooted off then.
 He'd be too embarrassed to come back again.

 But with parting disdain, do you know what he said,
 When this overweight huckster took off in his sled?

 This reindeer enslaver, this exploiter of elves?
 "Happy Christmas to all, but get over yourselves!!"




Bronx Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, an all through the block,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Ed Koch.
The stockings were hung, by the furnace with care.
In hopes that by morning, they'd all still be there.

Me an this skank, were just getting ready for bed.
I wore pajamas, she had a paper bag for her head.
When up on the roof, I heard a big crash,
I thought it was a burglar, I was gonna kick ass!

I went out on the fire escape, looked up in the sky,
An what did I see, but this freakin fat guy!
With a red suit and boots, that came up to his knees,
In the moonlight he looked, just like Dom DeLouise.

He had a big sled, being pulled by reindeer.
He called one of them Dancer, so I assumed he was queer.
As he crept off the roof, it became clear to me,
That this guy was lookin, to steal my TV!

Over his shoulder, he had a big sack.
He came down the stairs, while I planned my attack.
I waited a second, till the time it seemed ripe.
Bopped him on the head, * botta bing * with a pipe!

He fell to the floor, with a groan and a thud.
I was kinda surprised, that I didn't see blood.
Instead he rolled over, looked me in the eye.
When I saw who I'd hit, I near started to cry.

I said "Hey 'yo Santa, I'm sorry all right?"
"Not for nuttin" he said, "but this just ain't my night!"
"I got lost in the Bronx, ran over some Nuns."
"Had a near miss by Kennedy, Rudolf's got the runs..."

"I'm out all freakin night, I'm bustin my hump."
"But I can't finish now, not with this lump!"
"So do me a favor, and be a real pal."
"Take over for me...be Santa Sal."

I say 'Yo! I'm from Brooklyn, I ain't right for the part.
But he says that Santa Claus, comes from the heart.
He made me a offer, I couldn't refuse.
Stop at every house....except for the Jews!

I got into the suit, jumped onto the sleigh,
Wondering just why it was, reindeer smelled that way.
Took off on my mission, didn't want to be late.
While old Nick spent the night, hosin' my date.

That night I was Santa, bringing kids joy and bliss.
And if you don't believe that...hey, jingle dis!
Since then I been with him, each year in the cold.
Riding shotgun with Santa, 'cause he's fat, and he's old.

I'm his number one helper, I been deputized.
So on this Christmas Eve, don't you be surprised.
If you hear a voice say, real loud and abrupt.
"Merry Christmas to all, thanks alot...eh - shutup!"




An AOL Night Before Christmas

'Twas a month before Christmas, from my wife came the wail,
"Take out the garbage and go get the mail."
So I trudged to my mailbox and what did I see?
Why, a miniature disc and computer CD!

'Twas a limited offer from America Online,
I knew in a twinkling that this deal was fine!
"Unlimited" access for one little fee,
And if I didn't like it I could cancel it free.

So I plugged the thing in and it just wouldn't load,
The message said "Error!" and something in code.
And this is when I started getting real nervous
So I waited four hours for "Customer Service."

This techno-geek helped me to load and install it,
Then demanded the VISA I keep in my wallet.
So I gave him my number and what did I spy?
"Terms and Conditions" screens whistling by.

Then I got me a password now I'd surf the Net!
But I never hit waves, man, I never got wet.
I soon got so mad I was shaking and dizzy
For my modem kept trying but lines were all busy!

And all through the month I kept trying this thing
But all I would hear was the "busy" sound ring.
So I called 1-800 and the AOL number
And waited on hold 'til I lapsed into slumber.

So I tried then to cancel but where's the address?
Somewhere in Virginia? It's anyone's guess.
And several days later I heard on the news
That 8 million people were trying to use

This AOL network at the very same time
And that's when this CEO Weasel-necked Slime
Announced the solution on how to log on,
Don't hog the phone lines and call in at dawn!

As you can imagine this didn't sit well
With lots of mad users who started to yell.
And soon the AG's Joined them in the attack,
"Give them their money (Or at least part of it back)!"

And this Weasle-Man leader tried to calm down the throng:
"Hey, I wanted those refunds for you all along!"
So in grandiose fashion and a big press release
Members were told how to get back their piece.

"Just call up this number and ask for your money,"
But then something happened that's practically funny.
When you call up the number (Don't get in a tizzy)
You can't get your refund cause the damn number's busy!!!




The Night Before a Redneck Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shack,
not a thing was a movin', from the front to the back,
The kids were in bed, I believe we had nine,
The wife in her curlers, was lookin' real fine.

A cold wind was blowin', up the holler it moaned,
All seven dogs on the porch howled and groaned.
The boys were all dreamin' of weapons and guns,
for killin' God's creatures, there's no better fun.

The girls in their feminine dreams were attuned,
to getting those gallons of Wal-Mart perfume.
The wife wanted jewelry, like rings with big rocks,
I wanted my Chevy, down off the blocks.

Then in the yard, such a noise did commence,
like something was caught, in the barb-wire fence.
I ran to the window, and saw pretty quick,
the man makin' the racket, was Good Ol' St. Nick.

You may think of Santa, in your own mind's eye,
dressed in a red and white suit, But I've got a surprise.
That old boy's an Arkie, our fair state he won't fail'er,
He married his cousin, and they live in a trailer.

On Christmas, of course, a sleigh for his rig,
He hooks the thing up, to a razorback pig.
He climbed on the roof, with his bag full of goodies,
He backed down the fireplace, all dirty and sooty.

Fat legs in his britches, chubby hands in his mittens,
I admit from the back, he looked like Bill Clinton.
He turned toward the tree, His eyes all aglow,
He was an Arkansas boy, from his head to his toe.

His neck was a red one, His shirt said "Light Beer",
there was no red hat, his cap read,"John Deere".
He left all the presents, with an air of delight,
Then it was back to the chimney, and into the night.

He ran into the yard, and threw his bag in the sleigh,
Then he yelled at the dogs, to get out of the way.
And I heard him exclaim, as those pigs took to flight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night...
or maybe it was a "bud lite" 




Epic of Santa

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,
There were bottles and butts left around by some louse.
And the best fifth I'd hidden by the chimney with care
Had been snatched by some bum who had found it right there.
My pals:  guys and gals had been poured into their beds
To wake in the morning with hungover heads.
My mouth, full of cotton, dropped down with a snap
Because I was dying for one wee nightcap.

When through the south window there came such a yell,
I sprang to my feet to see what the hell...
And what to my bloodshot eyes should I see
But eight drunken reindeer caught in a tree.
Way in 'mongst the branches was a man in a sleigh.
I saw it was Santa, quite oiled and tres gay.
Staggering nearer those eight reindeer came
As he burped and hiccupped and called them by name:

"On Whiskey, on Vodka, we ain't got all night!
You too, Gin and Brandy, now all do it right.
Clammer up to the roof; get the hell off this wall!
Get going you rummies, we've still a long haul!"
So up on the roof went the reindeer and sleigh,
But a tree branch hit Santa before he could sway
And then to my ears, like the roll of a barrel,
Came a hell of a noise that was no Christmas carol.

So I pulled in my head and cocked a sharp ear.
Down the chimney he plunged, landing smack on his rear.
He was dressed all in red, with white fur for a trim.
And the way Santa swayed, he was tanked to the brim.
The sack on his back held nothing but booze,  
And the breath that he blew nearly put me to snooze.
He was both plump and chubby and tried to stand right.
But he didn't fool me; he was high as a kite.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And missed half the stockings, the plastered old jerk.
And laying his thumb on the end of his nose, 
He fluttered his fingers as he quoted prose.
He sprang for his sleigh at so hasty a pace
He tripped on a shingle and slid on his face.
But I heard him burp back as he passed out of sight:
"Merry Christmas, you lushes, now really get tight."




The Net Before Christmas
by Jim Trudeau & Jay Trudeau (1991)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the nets
Not a mousie was stirring, not even the pets.
The floppies were stacked by the modem with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The files were nestled all snug in a folder
The screen saver turned on, the weather was colder.

And leaving the keyboard along with my mouse
I turned from the screen to the rest of the house.
When up from the drive there arose such a clatter
I turned to the screen to see what was the matter.
Away to the mouse I flew like a flash,
Zoomed open a window in fear of a crash...

The glow from the screen on the keyboard below
Gave an electronic luster to all my macros.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a little sleigh icon with eight tiny reindeer
And a tiny disk driver so SCSI and quick
I knew in a nano it must be Saint Nick.

More rapid than trackballs his cursors they came,
He whistled and shouted and faxed them by name.
"Now Flasher! Now Dasher! Now Raster and Bixel!
On Phosphor! On Photon! On Baudrate and Pixel!
To the top of the stack. To the top of the heap."
Then each little reindeer made a soft beep.

As data that before the wild electrons fly,
When they meet with a node, mount to the drive,
So up to the screentop the cursors they flew
With a sleigh full of disks and databits, too.
And then in a twinkling I heard the high whine
Of a modem connecting at a baud rate so fine.

As I gazed at the screen with a puzzling frown
St. Nicholas logged on though I thought I was down.
He was dressed all in bytes from header to footer
And the words on the screen said "Don't you reboot 'er."
A bundle of bits he had flung on his back
And he looked like a programmer starting his hack.

His eyes how they glazed, his hair was so scary,
His cola was jolt, not flavored with cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a GIF
And the pixels of his beard sure gave me a lift.
The stump of a routine he held tight in his code
And I knew he had made it past the last node.

He spoke not a word but looked right at me
And I saw in a flash his file was .SEA.
He self-decompressed and I watched him unfold,
Into a jolly old elf, a sight to behold.
And the whispering sound of my hard drive's head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He went straight to his work without saying a word
And filled all the folders of this happy nerd.
And 'tis the whole truth, as the story is told,
That giving a nod up the window he scrolled,
He sprang to the serial port as if truly on fire
And away they all flew down the thin copper wire.

But I heard him exclaim as he scrolled out of sight
"Happy Christmas to All, and to all a good night."




The Night Before Midterms

Twas the night before finals,
And all through the college,
The students were praying
For last minute knowledge.

Most were quite sleepy,
But none touched their beds,
While visions of essays
danced in their heads.

Out in the taverns,
A few were still drinking,
And hoping that liquor
would loosen up their thinking.

In my own dorm room,
I had been pacing,
And dreading exams
I soon would be facing.

My roommate was speechless,
His nose in his books,
And my comments to him
Drew unfriendly looks.

I drained all the coffee,
And brewed a new pot,
No longer caring
That my nerves were shot. 

I stared at my notes,
But my thoughts were muddy,
My eyes went ablur,
I just couldn't study.

"Some pizza might help,"
I said with a shiver,
But each place I called
Refused to deliver.

I'd nearly concluded
That life was too cruel,
With futures depending
On grades had in school.

When all of a sudden,
Our door opened wide,
And Patron Saint Put It Off
Ambled inside.

His spirit was careless,
His manner was mellow,
He started to bellow:

"What kind of student
Would make such a fuss,
To toss back at teachers
What they tossed at us?"

"On Cliff Notes!  On Crib Notes!
On Last Year's Exams!
On Wingit and Slingit,
And Last Minute Crams!"

His message delivered,
He vanished from sight,
But we heard him laughing
Outside in the night.

"Your teachers have pegged you,
So just do your best.
Happy Finals to All,
And to All, a good test."




Chemistry Christmas
 
'Twas the night before Christmas,
The lab was quite still;
Not a Bunsen was burning
   (Nor had they the will).
The test tubes were placed
   In their racks with great care,
In hopes Father Chemistry
   Soon would be there.

The students were sleeping
   So sound in their dorms,
All dreaming of fluids
   And Crystalline forms.
Lab-Aids in their aprons
   And I in my smock.

When outside the lab
   There arose such a roar
I leaped from my stool
   And fell flat on the floor.
Out ot the fire escape
   All of us flew.
What was the commotion?
   Not one of knew.

The flood-lights shone out
   O're the campus so bright 
It looked like old Stockholm
   On Nobel Prize Night.
My fume-blinded eyes
   Then viewed (dare I say?)
Eight anions pulling 
   A water-trough sleigh.

And holding the bonds
   Tied to each one of them
Was a figure I knew
   As our own Papa Chem.
With speeds in excess
   Of most X-rays they came.
As they Dopplered along
   He called each one by name.

"Now Nitrite, now Phosphate, 
 Now Borate, now Chloride
On Citrate, on Bromate,
   On Sulfite and Oxide.

Forget what you know 
   Of that randomness stuff, 
Let's go straight to that roof,
   If you've quanta enough."

As fluids Bernoullian
   Behave in a pinch,
Those ions said "Alchemist
   This is a cinch."
So up to the lab-roof
   Those "chargers" they sped
With Pop Chemistry safe
   In his water-trough sled.

Just a microsec later
   Electroscopes showed 
Charged particles coming
   To our lab abode
We raced back inside,
   And what d'ya think?
Down the fume-hood Pop Chem fell, 
   Right into the sink.

He was dressed in a lab-coat,
   Quite ragged and old, 
With removable buttons
  (The style, we're told)
A tray-full of beakers 
   He clutched to his heart--
And under his arm
   Was an orbital chart.

His eyes through his goggles
   I just couldn't see
His hands were all yellow
   From H-N-O-3.
His head was quite bald 
   With a fringe all around 
Like a ring test for iron,
   That same shade of brown.

He puffed a cigar
   With a smell not at all
Unlike the organic lab
   Right down the hall.
The smoke billowed forth 
   From his angular face
And with Brownian Movement
   Enveloped the place.  

He was thin as a match 
   And not terribly tall
He wasn't the type
   I'd expected at all
But a look at his clothes,
   In the lab's harsh white light,
With their acid-burn holes--
   He's a chemist all right!

He didn't say much
   (He had no time to kill)
And filled all the test tubes
   With nary a spill.  
Then placing them bak
   On the benches with care
He dashed to the fume-hood
   And rose through the air.  

He called to his team
   And his ions took off
And kinetics took care
   Of Pop Chem and his trough,
But I heard him cry out
   As he flew down the street
  "Merry Holidays to all!
   May your stockrooms stay neat!"




English Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the flat,
Not a creature was sober,
Not even the cat.
The glasses were placed
On the mantel with care,
In hopes that our Nicholas
Soon would be there;
The children were dining
At Tony's and Fred's,
Where speakeasy vintages
Danced through their heads.

And Mama with her whiskey,
And I with my gin,
Had just settled down
For an evening of sin.
When out in the lane
There arose such a clatter
I swallowed an olive--
Now what was the matter?
A gulp to the window
I fell like a flash,
Tore open the shutters
And threw up the sash.

A light on the crest
Of the new-fallen sleet
Gave a luster of mid-day
To things on the street;
When what to my wondering
Eyes should appear
But a truck loaded down
With a mountain of beer,
And a little old driver,
So lively and quick,
I knew in a moment
It must be out Nick!

More rapid than eagles
His helpers they came,
And he whistled and shouted
And called them by name,
"Now Lefty! Now Louie!
Now, Alky and Witzen!
On, Conky! On, Chowder!
On, Harry and Blitzen!
To the top of the house--
Ring the bells in the hall!
Now dash away, dash away,
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves before
The wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle,
Mount to the sky,
So up to the top-floor
The helpers they flew
With a lift full of treasure--
And Nicholas too.
And then in the twinkling
I heard on the flags
The prancing and pawing
Of bottles in bags.

As I drew in my head
And was turning around,
In the doorway our Nicholas
Came with a bound.
He was dressed like a Mayor
From his head to his feet,
And his tie was all spangled
With diamonds and sleet;
A bag full of beer
He had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler
Just opening his pack.

His rings, how they twinkled!
His sniffle, how merry!
His hands were like roses,
His eye like a cherry;
A scar drew his mouth
To one side like a bow,
And the foam on his chin
Was as white as the snow.
The gold of the dentist
Was bright in his teeth,
And a derby encircled
His head like a wreath.

He laid down his burden
To draw forth a sample,
And snapped off the cap
With a thumb that was ample.
He was cheerful and prompt--
An expensive young begger--
And we laughed when we saw him--
Our Christmas Bootlegger!
A wink of his eye,
And a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know
We had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work,
And filled all the glasses;
Then turned with a jerk,
And, laying his finger
aside of his nose,
And giving a nod:
"Down the hatch! Here she goes!"
He sprang to the door,
To his men gave a whistle,
And away they all went
Like the down of a thistle;
But I heard him exclaim
'Ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to All,
And to All a good night!"



 
MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM GUAM

Tis the night before Christmas
and Santa's relaxed.
Guam's surf is up--
Santa's surf board is waxed.

The Zories are hung
by the Aircon with care,
And the Kiddies all know
Santa soon will be there.

Once the tide goes out,
and he's through "hangin' ten"
He'll stop to see Barbara,
and Charlie, and Ben.

A snack's been prepared
by Becky and Sam.
It's that old island favorite:
Tortillas and Spam.

After giving out presents,
for his surfboard he'll reach.
Santa's parting remark will be
"Back to the Beach!"

He'll join all those tourists
who visit for fun.
When it comes to vacations,
he says, "Guam's number one!"

And you'll hear him exclaim
'ere he boogies away:
Merry Christmas to all,
And to all, "Hafa Adai!"




 A VISIT FROM ST. HICK
 by Christopher M. Mislow

'Twas late Christmas eve, and throughout the White House
All slumbered but Socks (who was chewing a mouse)
When all of a sudden a thunderous roar
Rattled the East Wing from rafter to floor.
Unsure if the noise was just gas or artillery,
Bill Clinton took action: he deputized Hillary.
In her robe and her slippers, she trudged to the source
Of the noise and saw nothing, but then heard a coarse
Texas twang from the fireplace clamor
"Down here! Are y'all just as blind as those tinhorn reindeer?"

There, on the hearth, 'midst the timber and tinder,
Sat H. Ross Perot, all covered wit cinder.
"Your flue," he complained, "is disgusting with soot.
You gave far too many staff members the foot.
Cutting budgets is wonderful; better is cheaper.
But you need either Zoe's or Kimba's housekeeper.
From ashes that thick, someone's breathing might fail.
Thank goodness, like Bill, that I didn't inhale."

"Why, Ross," replied Hillary, "pray tell what is it
To which Bill and I owe this Christmas Eve visit?
You're certainly welcome to use the front door.
Did you come down the chimney to hide from Al Gore?"

Shaking the layer of ash from his head,
Ross brushed his flattop, glowered and said:
"No, M'am. I'm a shareholder in Santa Claus, Inc.,
Whose dividends recently started to sink.
When I finally cornered old Santa himself,
He offered to hire me on as an elf!

So I planned my attack, set my financing snares,
Then bought all the company's outstanding shares.
Christmas trees won't be all that get trimmed from now on;
The era of deficit budgets is gone.
The business is gonna be run right because
All day, every day, now I am Santa Claus."

From his inside coat pocket Ross whipped out a chart
And a pointer he brandished with well-practiced art.
"Now, you look at this. You see this here graph?
The way Santa's workshop was run is a laugh.
Those North Pole utility bills are a joke,
And the union-scale wages will soon have us broke.
We need much, much cheaper electrical power,
And elves who don't make fifteen dollars an hour."
For dramatic effectiveness, Ross took a pause,
Then resumed his debut as the new Santa Claus.

"Each new day brings another environment rule.
Recycling toys is a pain in the Yule!
The slogan 'keep the North Pole white'
Is driving expenditures clear out of sight.
Luckily, NAFTA provides a solution,
A haven in which I can discharge pollution
Into the air or the land of my neighbor,
Where the powe union committee:
I'm moving the workshop to Mexico City."

Then, in a twinkle, up the chimney he went,
Back through the soot out the cold rooftop vent.
But not before saying, with a wink and a nod,
"Buenas noches, Miss Hillary, and Feliz Navidad!"




A Little Christmas Cheer

It was a month before Christmas, and just for a stunt,
Santa had his face buried in Mrs. Clauses' cunt.
There was a loud noise and Santa Jumped with a start,
It seemed Mrs. Claus had cut loose with one hell of a fart.

All Santa could do was gag and to spit,
His face and his beard were all plastered with shit.
Mrs. Claus was still on the bed, panting and groaning,
Hollering for Santa to try get his bone in.

Santa started laughing and shouting, and with a loud cheer,
Said I know what to do, I'll screw one of the deer!
They're cleaner and neater, and don't you suppose,
I'll be just the right height if I stand on my toes.

Santa ran from the barn Shaking his head at the noise,
Saying Jesus Christ, how'd I know they were all boys. 
It was getting about time to head for the south,
Santa hoping he could get rid of the taste in his mouth.

As the reindeer proceeded to line up in fours,
Santa hollered, "Merry Christmas Mrs. Claus this vibrator is yours!"
As Santa and his sleigh streaked into the sky,
He said you may not be able to fuck yourself, but why don't you try?

While Santa rode in the night, his ass frozen to the sled,
He started thinking of Mrs. Claus at home in her warm bed.
Santa spun in midair and headed back to the pole,
They say he never got farther from that hairy old hole.

The moral of this story will end with this bit,
Any job that you do, you just have to take shit.




A Wordy Night Before Christmas

Ecstatic Yuletide

  'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the 
annual Yuletide celebration and throughout our place of residence, 
kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this 
potential, including that species of diminutive rodent known as 
Mus musculus.

  Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the 
wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory 
pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric 
philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific 
title of St. Nick.

  The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective 
accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual 
hallucinations of variegated saccarinose fruit confections 
performing choreography through their cerebrums.  My conjugal 
partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head-coverings, were about 
to take slumberous advantage of the Arctic-like gloom when upon 
the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a 
cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity 
from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise 
source thereof.

  Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing 
this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, 
reflecting as it was upon the surface of a recent crystalline aqueous 
precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian 
itself--thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to 
behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance, drawn by an octet 
of diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a miniscule, 
aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent 
to me that he was indeed our anticipated beatified caller.

  With this ungulate motive power traveling at a greater vertiginous 
velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled 
breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the 
octet by his or her cognomen:  "Now Dasher, now Dancer," et al, guiding 
them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which 
structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the
sum total of the thirty-two cloven pedal extremities.

  As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location and was 
performing a pi radians pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved, 
with utmost celerity, via a downward saltation, entry by way of the 
ceramic smoke passage.  He was clad entirely in animal integuments, 
soiled by the ebony residue from partial oxidation of carboniferous 
fuels.  His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed to the 
plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a 
commodious cloth receptacle.

  His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his 
sub maxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging 
amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal 
appurtenances were engorged with crimson circulatory  fluid which, 
its chroma suffusing the dermal layers, approximated the retinal 
sensation reflected by the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry.  His 
amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a 
flexible, curved strip of wood associated with the American 
aborigines and their ambient, hirsute, facial adornment had an 
absence of coloring comparable to crystalline frozen hydrogen 
oxide vapor.

  Clenched firmly between his incisors was the posterior projection 
of a calumet whose gray colloidal aerosol fumes, forming a tenuous 
elliptical torus about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative 
seasonal circlet of holly.  His visage was wider than it was high, 
and when he waxed mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated 
in the manner of inpectinated fruit syrup in a colloidal gel state 
within a hemispherical container.  He was of Napoleonic stature, 
neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, 
the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome 
despite every effort to refrain from being so affected by this 
risiblity.  By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid 
and rotating his head slightly eccentricly, he indicated that 
trepidation on my part was superfluous.

  Without utterance, but with noticeable dispatch, he commenced 
filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the 
articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously 
dorsally transported cloth receptacle.  Upon completion of this task,
he executed an abrupt pi radian rotation about the vertical axis, 
placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his 
olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave 
taking, and effected his egress by saltation up the smoke passage 
through which he had made ingress.

  He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his rustic winter 
conveyance.  Contracting his oral sphincter, he emitted a shrill 
series of notes to the antlered quadrupeds of burden and proceeded 
to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observed chiefly among the seed 
bearing portions of a common weed.  But I overheard his parting 
exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond 
the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the  planetary 
constituency, and to the selfsame assemblage, my sincerest wishes 
for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period 
between sunset and dawn."




A Star Treking Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip; 
The phasers were hung in the armoury securely,
In hopes that no aliens would get up that early.
The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks 
(Except for the few who were partying drunks); 
And Picard in his nightshirt and Bev in her lace, 
Had just settled down for a neat face-to-face...
When out in the halls there arose such a racket, 
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun, 
 Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly, "Deck One!" 
The bridge Red-Alert lights, which flashed through the din, 
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what, on the viewscreen, should our eyes behold, 
But a weird kind  of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.
But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew 
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
 His sleigh grew much larger as closer he came.
 Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name: 
"It's Riker!  It's Data! It's Worf and Jean-Luc!
It's Geordi! And Wesley, the genetic fluke!
To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall!
Now float away! Float away! Float away all!" 
As leaves in the autumn  are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from  our feet,
And up to the ceiling our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out, "What the hell is this, Q?!"
The prankster  just laughed and expanded his grin, 
And, snapping his fingers, he  vanished again.
As we took in our plight and were looking around, 
The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.
Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe, 
Appeared once again, to continue the show.
"That's enough!" cried the captain, "You'll stop this at once!" 
And  Riker said, Worf! Take aim at this dunce!" 
"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc," replied Q, 
 "I just want to celebrate Christmas with you."
As we scoffed at his  words, he produced a large sack.
 He dumped out the contents and took a step back.
"I've brought gifts," he said, "just to show I'm sincere.
 There's something delightful for everyone here."
 He sat on the floor  and dug into his pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile: 
"For Counsellor  Troi, there's no need to explain.
 Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
 For Worf I've some mints as his breath's not too great, 
And for  Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.
For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-Plus;
For Data, a joke book;  for Riker, a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie, 
Then he sprang to his  feet with that grin on his face 
And, clapping his hands, disappeared  into space.
But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight,
"Merry Christmas  to all, and to all a good flight!"




The Joint Before Christmas

T'was the joint before Christmas and all through the house
The family was stoned and so was the mouse
Mama was in the kitchen Dad was in the can
I had just settled down for a piece of my man

But out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from under him to see what was the matter
I threw open the window jumped out on the grass
Tripped over a broomstick and busted my ass

A sleigh full of goodies on the roof came down
I screamed at the driver, "Shut the fuck up 
 or you'll wake the whole damned town!"
It was then that I saw the driver playing with his dick
I thought to myself, "Oh, it's just old Saint Prick"

He flew down the chimney like a bat out of Hell
I knew right then that the bastard had fell
He filled each stocking with a joint and a beer
And a big rubber dildo for the family queer

He then stuck his finger up his nose
And up, up, up the chimney he rose
Into his sleigh jumped the fat old man
And ripping his pants he exclaimed "Ah, Damn!"

And I heard him shout as he quickly rode away
"Oh Fuck you all! It's been a long day!"



     
NIGHT BEFORE CHANUKAH

'Twas the night before Chanukah, boychicks and maidels
Not a sound could be heard, not even the draidels.
The Menorah was set on the chimney, alight
In the kitchen the Bubba hut gechapt a bite.
Salami, pastrami, a glessala tay
And zayerah pickles with bagels, oy vay!
Gezunt and geschmack, the kinderlech felt
While dreaming of tagelach and Chanukah gelt.

The clock on the mantlepiece away was tickin'
And Bubba was serving a schtickala chicken.
A tumult arose like a thousand brauches,
Santa had fallen and broken his tuches.
I put on my slippers, eins, tsvay, drei,
While Bubba was now on the herring and rye.
I grabbed for my bathrobe and buttoned my gotkes
While Bubba was busy devouring the latkes.

To the window I ran and to my surprise
A little red yarmulka greeted my eyes.
Then he got to the door and saw the Menorah,
"Yiddishe kinder," he said, "Kenehora.
I thought I was in a goyisha hoise,
But as long as I'm here, I'll leave a few toys."

With much gesshray, I asked, "Du bist a Yid?"
"Avada, mein numen is Schloimey Claus, kid."
"Come into the kitchen, I'll get you a dish,
A guppell, a schtickala fish."
With smacks of delight, he started his fressen,
Chopped liver, knaidlach and kreplah gegessen.
Along with his meal, he had a few schnapps,
When it came to eating, this boy was the tops.

He asked for some knishes with pepper and salt,
But they were so hot, he yelled "Oy Gevalt."
Unbuttoning his haizen, he rose from the tisch,
And said, "Your Kosher essen is simply delish."
As he went to the door, he said "I'll see you later,
I'll be back next Pesach, in time for the Seder."

More rapid than eagles his prancers they came,
As he whistled and shourted and called them by name:
"Now Izzy, now Morris, now Yitzak, now Sammy,
Now Irving and Maxie, and Moishe and Mannie."
He gave a gesshray as he drove out of sight:
"Gooten Yontiv to all, and to all a good night."




The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, 
everyone was getting laid, even the mouse.  
With Ma in her whore house and dad in jail, 
I had just settled down for a nice piece of tail...

When out on the lawn, there rose such a clatter, 
I sprang from my sister-in-law to see what was the matter. 
I threw open the shudders and threw out the hash, 
tripped over my boner and busted my ass.

And out on the lawn but what should appear
but a rusty ol' sleigh, and 8 fucking reindeer. 
Out of the sleigh jumped a big, fat dick...
and I knew in an instant it must be St. Prick. 

"To the top of the roofs, to the top of the walls, 
on you bastards before I cut off your balls!"
He came down the chimney like a bat outta Hell, 
and I knew for a fact the poor fucker had fell. 

He filled the stockings with pretzels and beer, 
and a big rubber dick for my brother the queer. 
Then he rose up the chimney with a thunderous fart, 
that son of a bitch, he blew the damn thing apart!

And he cursed and he swore as he rode out of sight, 
"Fuck you all, I've had one hell of a night!"




The Night Before Christmas 

Twas the night befor Christmas, and God it was neat.
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, the phone off the hook,
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.

Momma in her teddy and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner, and momma went dry.

Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangey reindeer.
With a fat little driver, half out of the sled,
A sock in his ear and a bra on his head.

Sure as I'm speaking, he was high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
Woa Shithead, woa Asshole, woa Stupid, woa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts.

Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.

And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jockies, to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.

His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
"That was some brothel," he said with a smile,
"The reindeer are pooped, and I'll just stay awhile"

He walked to the kitchen for himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.

Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.

A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find,
And six pair of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several more things I shouldn't even mention.

A fuck ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil.
"This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I'll leave 'em here, and then I'll just split."

He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug stuck under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.

In time he was seated, took reigns of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home, Rudolf. This night's been a bitch!"
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about pussy is you can't wear it out!!"




A Christmas Story For The Delinquint In All Of Us.
By Dean Klear

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
The whole damn family was as drunk as a louse.
Grandma and Grandpa were singin' a song,
And the kid was in bed, floggin' his dong.

Ma home from the cathouse, and I out of jail,
We had just settled down for a good piece of tail.
When out on the lawn, arose such a clatter,
I sprang off Ma to see what the fuck was a matter.

Away to the window, I made a mad dash,
Flew open the shutters and fell on my ass.
But what to my bloodshot eyes but appear,
A rusty old sled and a dozen rein deer,

And a little old driver holding his dick,
I knew right away it was that bastard St. Nick.
(Santa)"On dasher, on Blitzen, up over those walls,
"Quickly now, damnit, or I'll cut off your balls."

Upon the roof, he fondered and fell,
And came right down the chimney like a bat out of hell.
He staggered and stumbled on over to the door,
Tripped over his cock, and fell on the floor.

And I heard him explain, as he rode out of sight,
"Piss on you all, It's been a hell of a night."
 



Twas the Night before Christmas in the UseNet
By Mark S. Hayworth

Twas the night before Christmas,    
and all though the newsgroup,
Not a creature was stirring,    
except for a newbie.

He posted his message    
to newsgroups with care,
With the hope that the answer    
soon would be there.

"Please, anyone, ANYONE    
tell me if I
Can make money fast    
if I don't even try.

I've been racking my brain    
for over a week,
Haven't even had time    
to take a leak.

I've searched everywhere,    
I've read the FAQ too.
My one last hope,    
I'm praying, is you.

I'm pretty intelligent,
not a dumb schmuck,
So I don't know why    
I'm not having much luck."

He hit the Send button    
and went off to bed,
With visions of dollars in his head.

He hoped to learn    
from people so wise,
who'd learn of his plight    
and would sympathize.

When all of a sudden,    
there arose such a clatter
of regular readers    
getting madder and madder.

He ran to his computer    
to see what was up
And was hit by a flame    
as he powered it up!

Steam came from his monitor    
when he read the reply --
He was clueless and dumfounded    
and didn't know why.

"The reason, poor soul,    
you're having no luck,
'scuz you're not only a newbie,    
you're also a dumbf**k.

And IF you were listening,    
you'd already know,
That I've told you three times    
you're lower than low.

You'd have to reach 'Stupid"    
to raise your IQ,
Even a slime mold    
is smarter than you.

So go get a clue,    
you gullible jerk
So the rest of us all    
can get back to work.

And finally I say    
to you, with a wink,
I'd rather eat skunk    
than to smell your stink!"

He read in stunned silence.    
Was this a flame war?!?
He couldn't believe it.    
But wait...there was more...

"I'm hate you, you're ugly,    
and you piss me off.
The sight of your message    
makes us all scoff.

Listen Spamhead,    
get out of my face,
You're not even part    
of the human race.

I hate all the newbies!   
HATE, HATE, HATE!
I was never one myself,    
I'm telling you straight!

Now listen up newbie,   
listen up good:
Stay away from this newsgroup --    
it's OUR neighborhood!

You're the scum of the earth    
you despicable pest,
Now get out of our group,    
or we'll sue -- it's no jest!

I've had it to here    
-- I can't take any more!
I'm sending a letter bomb    
to your front door!

And the next person to post    
MMF will be dead."
The message was signed    
by someone named "FAQHead."

His spirits were shattered,    
his high hopes were dashed,
To learn he was thought of    
as a huge ass.

He was heartbroken to learn    
they hated his guts,
and believed in their hearts    
that he was a putz.

He opened another    
reply just in case
A kind-hearted reader    
lurked in this place.

But alas, all there was,    
was much to displease:
"Merry Christmas to all ...    
except the newbies!"




 The Night Before Chanukah

'T was the night before Chanukah, as it is said
And Santa was sitting and hocking his head
He had all the toys wrapped up nice in his zeckel
For maidlach and boys to give each one a peckel
The reindeer were saddled and ready to fly
Like a crew of brave astronauts all through the sky
But Santa was starving to eat a good meichel
Some regular food that would stick to his beichel
Not plum cakes or mincemeat or peppermint candy
But some kosher cooking he thought would be dandy
So he called to his reindeer, "Hey, kinder, let's go
To a Jewish balbusta and don't be so slow."
The house had no chimney, so he went through the door
And kissed the mezzuzah and jumped on the floor
Then the man of the house said, "Santa you devil
Come on, don't be shy and see our split level
The night is still early, there's plenty of zeit
So come in the den and please have a bite
If only we knew you were coming, by gosh
But I'll call out the wife and she'll give you a nosh
A slice of stuffed derma, a few little strudels
Some chicken salami, some flanken with noodles
Some blintzes, some kreplach, some lox and bialy
A bissel chopped herring, an end piece of chaleh
And if all of these goodies don't fill up your gatkes
Last but not least, some Chanukah latkes."
"A latke?" cried Santa, "what is this delight?"
On the outside it's golden and inside it's white.
On the outside so crisp and inside it's yummy
And he gobbled them up 'til he filled his fat tummy.
Then they gave him a dreidel and showed him the plays
And he took a menorah to light for eight days
And to give Santa some spirit and to show how they felt
For mazel they gave him some Chanukah gelt.
He beamed and he chuckled and said "Kine-ahaora,
I don't want to feel like a Chanukah schnorrer
To show you how much I enjoyed your Jewish snack
I'm leaving you everything, even my sack."
Then he called to his reindeer and said, "Luz mir gehn."
And each one got ready as he schlepped on the rein
"Giddyap Irving, Hoo Ha Sidney, Hi ho Sadie, Let's go Minnie,
Onward Gussie, Upward Solly, Ole Becky, Oy Vey Molly."
And they swore that he yelled as he rode out of sight
"MERRY LATKES" to all and to all a GOOD NIGHT."




THE NIGHT BEFORE HANUKKAH 

'Twas the night before Chanukah
and all over the place
There was noise, there was kvetching
Soch ah disgrace!

The Kinderlach, sleeping,
uneasily felt
The chocolate rush
from the Chanukah gelt

And me in the easyboy,
so stuffed with latkes,
I stretched the elastic
which held up my gatchkes.

When up on the roof
(and it has a steep pitch)
A fat alte kakker
was making a kvitsch.

I jumped up real quick
and I ran to the door,
Was it a bandeet,
or only a schnorrer?

He wasn't alone;
he had eight ferdelach,
And called them by name
as he gave a gebrach:

"On Moishe, on Yankel, on Itzik, on Sam,
On Mendel, on Shmendrik, on Feivush, on Ham;
My kidneys are kvelling;
do you give a damn?"

He had a white beard
and payyes to boot,
And to keep out the cold,
he had such a nice suit!

A second from Peerless,
I could tell at a glance,
But the cut was okay,
and so were the pants.

He was triple XL,
a real groisser goof,
So I yelled out,
"Meshuggener! Get off from Mein roof!"

He jumped down and said
as he shook hands with me,
"Max Klaus is the name.
You have maybe some tea?"

So I gave him a gleisel,
while he shook his white mop,
Mutt'ring, "Always the same thing,
They're dreying my kopp!"

From Vancouver to Glacer Bay,
Outremont to Reginek,
Every shmo in the world
hakks meir a cheinik!

They're screaming for presents,
and challah with schmaltz,
And from Brooklyn alone,
the back pain, gevaltz!"

So we sat and yentehed,
and we spun the old dreydels,
(He took all of my money,
and one of my kanidels)

He said, "Business is not bad,
a living I make,
But I'm getting too old
for this Chanukah fake;

And the cell phones, you see
how my pacemaker dings?
For two cents I'd quit,
and move to Palm Springs?"

And he gave a geshrei
as he fled mit a lacht,
"Gut Yontiff to All,
Vey is Mir, Such a Nacht!"
 



Twas the Month after Chanukah
By Bill Stebbins

Twas the month after Chanukah, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibble, the latkas I'd taste
At Chanukah parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,

The wine or the egg creams, the bread and the cheese
and the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt
and prepared once again to do battle with dirt---

I said to myself, as only I can
"You can't spend the winter disguised as a man!"
So--away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of all chocolate, each cracker and chip

Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
"Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie--not even a lick.
I'll want to chew only a long celery stick.

I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore---
But isn't that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!




The Night Before Thanksgiving
 
Twas the night before Thanksgiving and in my sleep.
Strange dreams in my mind, began to creep
Thanksgiving leftovers beckoned --- The dark meat and white,
But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation......
The thought of a snack became infatuation.....
So to the kitchen I did race, Flung open the door,
And gazed at the fridge full of goodies galore.

I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.
I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
Till all of a sudden, I rose off the ground !!

I crashed through the ceiling.  Floating into the sky.
With a mouthfull of pudding and a handful of pie,
But I managed to yell as I soared past the trees...
HAPPY EATING TO ALL!  PASS THE CRANBERRIES PLEASE! 




The Night Before Thanksgiving
 
'Twas the night before T-day
And everyone's snoring,
And why, might you ask.....
'Cause this pattern's so BORING.

Record rains back in June
Gave us much cause to swoon,
But by end of the summer
We all sang a new tune.

After three months of drought
Centered in the mid-'Lantic,
The forecasters were stymied,
The farmers were frantic.

As the days became shorter
And the leaves red and gold,
There still came no water
And now uh oh.....no cold!

"Hey, looks like no problem,"
Cried some folks on the Net,
"Lack of rain we can deal with
'Cause soon we'll be wet."

"But this pattern must change,"
Sighed some others who know,
"For rain without cold
Means just that.....rain, not snow!"

So to get a fresh take on this snow deprivation
I consulted my neighbor for his own expectation,
Of when it might snow and when it might blow.....
He was out on the porch with the hog, don't you know.

Bill was pacing the porch all decked out in red flannel,
While Phil still seemed bored by the all-weather channel;
"Hey Bill, watcha know, how ya doin,' how's Phil,
Is he forecasting these days with any more skill?"

With the holidays coming I'd expected good cheer
But the most Bill would offer was his patented sneer;
"Look, son, get lost, ain't got time for you now,
I'm much too damn busy tuning up this here plow!"

"Now hold on there Bill, don't get all in a tizzy,
I can see that as usual you're tied up and busy;
It's just I can't wait, I wanted to know
If you'd venture a guess for the first widespread snow?"

When he heard the word 'snow' he just stopped in his tracks
And he fumbled for something from deep in his slacks;
Then he ran in the house and came back with a bag
Filled with old forecasts from Walston and Drag.

When he found what he wanted his face started to glow
As he showed me his dates for the first real good snow;
"Look, son, I told you, way back last September
When our first snow would be.....you just don't remember."

"Yeah I know what you said, but I'm sure gettin' worried,
'Cause it's almost December and we haven't been buried;
If this pattern keeps up with a trough in the West,
We'll be lucky to pull one good snowfall at best."

"The pattern will change," he snorted and huffed,
"You're just bent out of shape from the forecast you muffed;
You called for a snow twenty-third or the fourth,
And plenty of cold from out of the north.
It's fine if you forecast many months in advance
But snow this November? Hell no, not a chance!"

As he stalked away laughing towards the edge of the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.....

Oops. Wrong holiday again.....

When he got to the edge of the porch, near the rail,
I noticed a turkey all hearty and hale;
"Hey Bill," I yelled out, "so what's with the bird?
A replacement for Phil? I think that's absurd!"

"Au contraire," he just laughed, "I've been getting him plump,
As a present for you, you forecasting chump!
Now mark down my words, and don't you dismiss this.....
There'll be two heavy snows within one week of Christmas."

And as he and the hog disappeared in the night
I walked home with the turkey.....geez what a sight;
And so ends this tale, no more can I scrawl.....
Happy Thanksgiving I say, to everyone all!




The Week Before Christmas In School
by Joyce Luke

'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the school
Not a pupil was silent, no matter what rule.
The children were busy with paper and paste;
The mess that they made with it couldn't be faced.

The teacher half frantic and almost in tears,
Had just settled down to work with her dears,
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter
up sprang the kids to see what was the matter!

Away to the door they all flew like a flash;
The one who was leading went down with a crash.
Then what to their wondering eyes did appear
But a green Christmas tree! (To decorate I fear!)

When the teacher saw this, she almost grew sick.
She knew in a moment it must be Old Nick!
She ran to the door (all her efforts were vain)
But she shouted, and stamped, and she called them by name;

"Now Tommy! Now Sandy, Now Judy and Harry!
Stop Billy! Stop Robert! Stop Donny and Sherry!
Now get to your places get away from the hall
Now get away! Get away! Get away all!

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
The pupils, pell mell, started scurrying by.
They ran to the blackboard and skipped down the aisle;
Their faces were shining and each had a smile.

First came a basket of popcorn to string
-Then came the Christmas tree (menacing thing).
As the tree was brought in there arose a great shout;
The pupils were merrily romping about.

The state they were in could lead to a riot;
The teacher was sure, if allowed, they would try it.
Her nerves how they jangled! Her temples were throbbing!
The rush of her breath sounded almost like sobbing!

The lines of her face were as fixed as a mask;
It was plain that she didn't feel up to her task.
The look in her eye would have tamed a wild steer,
But the children ignored it; they did every year.

A tear from her eye and a shake of her head
Soon led me to think that she wished she were dead.
She spoke not a word but went straight to her work,
Strung all the popcorn which broke with a jerk.

But at last it was finished and placed on the tree;
Then came the bell and the children were free.
Their shrill little voices soon faded away
And peace was restored at the end of the day.

As she looked at the Christmas tree glistening and tall,
She smiled as she whispered, Merry Christmas to all!
 



Night Before Christmas (Thanks for good Teachers)
by Judy Bartlett

Twas the week before Christmas and all thru the night
I baked for the teachers till dawns early light
I measured and stirred and measured some more...
Did not even top to wipe up the floor.

A mess I did make, but had not a care,
That I loked like a cook With a net in my hair.
I smiled as I stirred a big bowl of fudge
Cause I knew that each teacher would soon have a pudge.

A thought crossed my mind as I packed up this stuff
To show how I feel would this be enough?
To know that your child when at school is so happy
To show she is learning means her teachers aren't crappy.

A gift from the heart fills this plate just for you
Its a way to say thanks for the things that you do
The impressions you make on a child such as mine
Stick with us all a whole life long time

And at 12:30 am I'm still in here bakin'
Writin' silly things while my back is a achin'
A merry Christmas to you that comes from within
You can open your plate, don't wait to begin!

One final thought as your're trying to pick
If I smell much more chocolate, I'm gonna be SICK!!! 




'Twas the Night Before Orals
by Diane Penkoff

'Twas the night before orals; The pacing was frantic.
'Twas no time for quarrels Or similar antics.
The disk drives were humming. The lamps were ablaze.
But thoughts were not coming! The brain was a-daze.
                                      
Alone at the books, The haggard soul gazed,
Staring down with blank looks, More than slightly amazed.
This new hill to climb Just grew bigger and higher
While one at a time, Family member tired.
                                      
All judgment regressed. Cognition grew bleary.
Was ANOVA a test One could use in comm theory?
What was that about t-tests And significance levels?
Was pooled variance best When reporting those devils?
                                      
And rhetorical studies--So much to recall!
Who were Cicero's buddies? Were they orators all?
Foucault! And Quintillian! And Fisher! And Burke!
There must be a million Huge bodies of work!
                                      
What about the committee? Is it not cool to feed 'em?
Should one try to be witty? Does one dare try to lead 'em?
Then suddenly, there On the bookcase appeared
A man small and spare With a glist'ning white beard.
                                      
He smoked a clay pipe And seemed jolly and spry,
With a joke growing ripe In the gleam of his eye.
He was a strange sight 'Cause although he was hairy,
He'd wand and wings white! Was he warlock or fairy?
                                      
"You think I look odd," He said, puffing his pipe,
"But a lithe girlish bod Is mere stereotype!"
"My sex," he said, "varies And may seem a bender
But fair's fair for fairies, By race and by gender."
                                      
"I'm your quals good luck fairy, Despite being male.
Though orals are scary, You simply can't fail."
"I'm spreading my magic," Said he with a smirk.
"Quals cannot be tragic, Or I'd be a jerk!"
                                      
Then with a great gust, He brandished his wand
And spread fairy dust To make the spell bond.
"Go forth, child, and dazzle. Your committee will pass you.
There's no need to frazzle No one can harass you."
                                      
Then conferring a smile And a rather sharp stare,
He disappeared while Puffing smoke in the air.
He was gone in a twinkling, But within those four walls
He bequeathed a slight inkling Of life after quals.
                                      
A lingering phrase, Though the fairy'd departed,
Hung about like a haze And this wisdom imparted:
"For sanity's sake, You deserve a vacation,
Which you just cannot take Until post-dissertation!"
 



The Bivalves' Christmas 

'Twas the night before Christmas, and on the mud flat,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a spat.
The clams were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of plankton danced in their heads.

And I in my mantle and Virginica in her shell
Had just settled down from a long filtering spell
When out in the marsh there arose such a clatter
I opened my valves to see what was the matter.

Worms rose from their tubes, Scallops blinked their blue eyes;
Clams stuck up their siphons, Mussels gaped in surprise.
For there, on the crest of the incoming tide,
Festooned in seaweed, On a dolphin did ride,

None other than Neptune, Saint Nick of the deep,
Accompanied by mermaids just risen from sleep.
And in his wake, by the light of old Luna,
I thought I espied an entire school of tuna;

Not the chunk light variety, but real albacore(!)
And with them were sturgeons, sea bass and more.
Crustaceans too: Portunus, Penaeus,
Most every variety named by Linnaeus.

They all followed Neptune, who rode to the beach,
And as he dismounted they stayed within reach.
With theatrical fanfare he opened his pack
And poured out his gifts on the Spartina rack.

He passed out Artemia (Brine shrimp to you),
Purina fish chow, and shrimp pellets too.
He had freeze dried krill and bloodworms galore.
He passed out the goodies till there weren't any more.

Not a one was forgotten who swims in the sea.
But think on it now, does that include me?
That's right he'd omitted the bivalves completely:
No algae to filter, no diatoms to treat me!

There ensued a great silence as the truth slowly dawned:
They'd gotten nothing and the gifts were all gone!
Then there came a great cry of dismay from the muck,
And the bivalves rose up to the last geoduck,

Demanding to know (Could there be a good reason?)
Why Saint Nick had forgotten them this Christmas season.
Not all clams were bad! The scallops were ignorant.
The mussels may have conspired, but the oysters were innocent.

And what of the cockles? They'd done no one a wrong.
And thus in this vein the clamoring went on.
Neptune climbed a high rock, for protection may be,
But it had this advantage-from the mud we could see

As he flourished his trident, silencing the crowd,
Then pronounced in a voice that was righteously loud:
Frankly, Scallop, I don't give a clam!




The Cat's Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse.

'Cuz the cat had pounced on him
and tore him apart-
Ate his mousey intestines
And chewed up his heart.

Kitty thought he heard sleighbells,
which made him take pause-
He stopped daintily lickng
the blood from his claws.

"Must be Santa" thought Kitty
(that quite clever cat)
'Cuz nobody else climbs down
the chimney like that.

Indeed it was ol' Santa,
so jolly and fat
With a load of presents
and all for the cat!

"Wow, the best Christmas ever!"
Kitty thought with a purr,
Then he coughed up a hairball
and shed some more fur.




The Night Before Catmas

Twas the night before Catmas
When all through the house
Not an animal was stirring,
Not even the mouse.

The kitties were snuggled
And tucked in their beds,
While visions of cat goodies
Danced in their heads.

Their stockings were hung
By the cat bowls with care,
In hope that Father Catmas
Soon would be there.

Out on the rooftop
There arose such a hissing,
I knew Father Catmas
Was having trouble parking.
   
I jumped on the couch,
Stuck my nose to the curtain.
"Here he is!", I purred
"It is him, I'm certain."
 
What to my deep blue eyes
Should appear,
But Father Catmas himself
In his Catsled gear.

He purred and he purredred,
But through the kitty door he went,
Then stopped and smelled the air
As he picked up a scent.

The cat cookies we left him
Were by the back door.
The kitties had baked them
Not an hour before.
   
He went about his work
With never a sigh,
Filling the stockings
With toys piled high.

He waved at me
With his mighty paw.
Although I was hiding,
'Twas my little nose he saw.

Out the kitty door he went
In oh such a rush,
Jumped on his catsled
And yelled out, "MUSH!"

The eight Maine Coon cat team
Were raring to go.
They hated 'stand stay',
Especially in the snow.

I could hear him hissing
As he disappeared that night,
"Merry Catmas to all!
OK team, turn rrrrright!"
 



The Day Before Christmas

It's the day before Christmas
And all through the house
The puppies are squeaking
An old rubber mouse.

The wreath which had merrily
Hung on the door
Is scattered in pieces
All over the floor.

The stockings that hung
In a neat little row
Now boast a hole in
Each one of the toes.

The tree was subjected
To bright-eyed whims,
And now, although splendid,
It's missing some limbs.

I catch them and hold them.
"Be good", I insist.
They lick me, then run off
To see what they've missed.

And now as I watch them
The thought comes to me,
That theirs is the spirit
That Christmas should be.

Should children and puppies
Yet show us the way,
And teach us the joy
That should come with this day?

Could they bring the message
That's written above,
And tell us that, most of all
Christmas is love.  




'Twas the Night Before 2000

Twas the night before 2000 and all through the tower, 
applications were failing, more by the hour. 
The programs were running on the mainframe with care, 
in hope that the millennium bug was not there.
   
The programmers were seated in front of their PC's,
 while visions of blank paychecks danced in their heads. 
With Amy in her office and I at my desk, 
we had just settled down for a night with no rest.
   
When up on my screen there arose such a ding, 
I sprang from my chair screaming, "I didn't touch a thing!"
Away from my computer I ran real quick, 
tore open the drawer and picked up a stick. 

I glared at the PC, evil and mean, 
then realized...it's just a machine.

What to my wondering eyes should I see, 
But a miniature window, and a message for me. 
With tired eyes, I gave a glance, 
only hours left, we don't have a chance!
   
More rapid than eagles the languages fell, 
and we whistled, and shouted, and called with a yell; 
"Now COBOL! now, NATURAL, Batch and On-Line! 
Oh, FORTRAN! Oh SAS! Now CHORE went flat-line!
   
From the front of my face, to the face of the wall, 
now bash away! bash away! bash away all! 
As the team gathered together for one last try, 
the word from  management came..."Fix it or die!"
   
So they sat in their chairs, in the up-right position, 
with a desk full of work, and a nasty disposition!
And then, in a dinging, I heard the speaker mention, 
"Attention, the building, Attention."
   
As he tried to speak the next word, 
the crashing of the mainframe is all we heard. 
The programs were a mess, from start to end. 
My screen was tarnished with an ugly abend.
   
The team assembled, into one huge pack, 
we looked like hungry wolves, ready to attack.
Our eyes - how they twinkled! Our fingers typed with a clank. 
Fix Payroll we said, because our paychecks are blank!
   
The sweat on my face was falling like rain, 
while the coding of COBOL drove me insane! 
The stump of a pencil I held tight in my hand, 
I chewed nervously, hoping I would not get canned!
   
I coded some Windows and a Bridge too, 
that took a program from version one to two. 
I was tired, weak, and in a delusion state, 
and I laughed when I saw it, in spite of fate.
   
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 
soon let me know that bug was not dead! 
It spoke not a word, but went straight to work, 
crashing the remaining programs, then turned with a jerk.
   
I placed the cursor next to the bug, 
pressed the delete key to remove the little thug. 
But I heard it exclaim, as I erased the line.....
"Happy Millennium for now, 'cause I'll return in 9999!"




'Twas the Night Before Y2K

T'was the night before Y2K, and all through the nation,
We awaited The Bug, the millennium sensation.

The chips were replaced in computers with care,
In hopes that ol' Bugsy wouldn't stop there.

While some folks could think they were snug in their beds,
others had visions of dread in their heads.

And Ma with her PC and I with my Mac
had just logged on the Net and kicked back with a snack,

When over the server there arose such a clatter,
I called Mister Gates to see what was the matter.

But he was away, so I flew like a flash,
off to my bank to withdraw all my cash.

When what with my wandering eyes should I see?
My good old Mac looked sick to me.

The hack of all hackers was looking so smug,
I knew that it must be the Y2K Bug!!!

His image downloaded in no time at all,
he whistled and shouted, "Let all systems fall!!"

Go Intel! Go Gateway! Now HP! Big Blue!
Everything Compaq, and Pentium, too!

All processors big, all processors small,
Crash away!  Crash away!  Crash away all!!

All the controls that planes need for their flights,
all microwaves, trains, and all traffic lights.

As I drew in my breath and was turning around,
out through the modem, he came with a bound.

He was covered with fur, and slung on his back
was a sack full of viruses, set for attack.

His eyes - how they twinkled!  His dimples how merry!
As midnight approached, though, things soon became scary.

He had a broad little face and a round little belly,
and his sack filled with viruses quivered like jelly.

He was chubby and plump, perpetually grinning,
and I laughed when I saw him though my hard drive stopped spinning.

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
soon gave me to know a new feeling of dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
he changed all the clocks, then turned with a jerk.

With a twitch of his nose, and a quick little wink,
all things electronic soon went on the blink.

He zoomed from my system, to the next folks on line,
he caused such a disruption, could this be a sign?

Then I heard him exclaim, with a loud, hearty cry,
Happy Y2K to all, Kiss your PC's goodbye!!!




Twas the Week After Christmas
 
'Twas the week after Christmas and all through the house 
not one pc was working not even a mouse.
I turned on the power but nothing was working
I grab the computer and start banging and jerking.

I laid out three grand for this big piece of junk
on January 1st, the damn thing went "kerplunk"!
When I threw it out the window it made such a clatter
my neighbor just called to see what's the matter.

I turned on the TV the cable is down
my microwave oven is making weird sounds.
My new VCR is as dead as a rock
not one light is blinking not even the clock.

It's twenty below the peak of snow season
the furnace won't work the pipes are all freezing

This couldn't have happened at a worse time
I think I have frostbite on my behind.
I laughed for a second and thought it all funny
then a call from my bank in regard to my money.

"We managed your pension and savings with care
but for some odd reason your money's not there
we were Y2K ready we'd thought we'd be heroes 
but regret to inform you your balance is...zero"!

I drop the receiver to the bathroom I rush
I push down the handle the toilet won't flush.
I turned on the faucet not one drop hits the sink
I head out the door to the pub for a drink.

I jump in the car turn the key in the switch
it only goes "click" I scream, you "S.O.B.!"
A computerized ignition has just sealed my fate
not set up for the "2000" date.

I twitch like a madman this cannot be true
no car, heat, or money what can I do?
Shouting obscenities as I ran out of sight
happy Y2K to all it's been one heckuva night! 




The Night Before Vegas

Twas the night before Vegas, when all through the house
Not a worry was thought of, by me or my spouse;
The bags were all packed, the clothes folded with care,
In hopes that soon wed be on the plane and just get there.

Everyone was nestled all snug in our beds,
While visions of mega bucks danced in our heads;
Though I couldn't sleep well while thinking of L.V.,
I knew I could take a nap on the plane in my seat, 11-C.

When she thought she heard something down in the den,
She jumped up out of bed to see who, what and when.
She had to run down and get there in a flash,
Couldnt let a thief get our tickets or cash.

With the faint light casting shadows in the hall,
She could see an outline as she came closer, on the wall;
As tired as she was, now she was getting curious.
"Why wasn't he in bed? I'm going to be furious!

As she eased up behind me, so stealth in the dark night,
She couldn't quite see what was going on, in dim light;
How can he be up, what is he doing at this time?
Is it something underhanded, what could be the crime?

I was pounding on the keyboard. 
"what could he be typing? Could it be? Oh good Lord!
With all we had to do, with the sleep we needed,
She had begged, she had reasoned, she even had pleaded.

Its not a compulsion or addiction, I can control it.
I had told her, I knew anytime I could quit,
But no, I couldnt, I  had to let everyone know:
At the top of the page it said T-1, 5 hours to go. 




A Viking Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Hall
Not a creature was stirring, not warrior nor thrall.
And I in my armor, my greaves and my helm
Was drunker than anyone else in the Realm

I staggered upstairs and fell into bed
While four quarts of mead were ablaze in my head.
Then up from below came the sounds of a brawl
So I grabbed up my axe and ran down to the Hall.

I missed the last step and crashed down in a heap
Thinking, "Why can't those low-lifes downstairs go to sleep!"
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But two brawny strangers, wielding mallet and spear.

I said to myself, "We'll soon have them beat!"
Then I noticed ten warriors laid out at their feet.
I gave out a yell and leapt into the fray.....
I'll always regret my poor choice that day.

For the one laid his hammer to the side of my nose
And up, up, up to the rafters I rose.
Then came a lone frightened voice from the floor,
"Those are no mortal warriors -- that's Odin and Thor!"

Then they looked at each other and they said, "Battle's done,
Now they know who we are, it no longer is fun."
Then Thor raised his hammer, and his elbow he bent,
And with a loud crash, through the ceiling they went.

I crawled through the Hall and flung open the door,
Not really sure that I'd seen them before.
The snow bathed in starlight, the moon like a glede,
I saw them ride off on an eight-legged steed.

And I heard them exclaim, 'ere they flew out of sight,
"TO HELA WITH CHRISTMAS, WE JUST LOVE A GOOD FIGHT!" 




The Night Before Christmas (Texas Style)
   
T'was the night before Christmas, in Texas, you know.
Way out on the prairie, without any snow.
Asleep in their cabin, were Buddy and Sue,
A dreamin' of Christmas, like me and you.
   
Not stockings, but boots, at the foot of their bed,
For this was Texas, what more need be said,
When all of a sudden, from out of the still night,
There came such a ruckus, it gave me a fright.
   
And I saw 'cross the prairie, like a shot from a gun,
A loaded up buckboard, come on at a run,
The driver was "Geein" and "Hawin", with a will,
The horses (not reindeer) he drove with such skill.
   
"Come on there Buck, Poncho, & Prince, to the right,
There'll be plenty of travelin' for you all tonight."
The driver in Levi's and a shirt that was red,
Had a ten-gallon Stetson on top of his head.
   
As he stepped from the buckboard, he was really a sight,
With his beard and moustache, so curly and white.
As he burst in the cabin, the children awoke,
And were so astonished, that neither one spoke.
   
And he filled up their boots with such presents galore,
That neither could think of a single thing more.
When Buddy recovered the use of his jaws,
He asked in a whisper, "Are you really Santa Claus?"
   
"Am I the real Santa? Well, what do you think?"
And he smiled as he gave a mysterious wink.
Then he leaped in his buckboard, and called back in his drawl,
"To all the children in Texas, Merry Christmas, You-all" 




Da Night Befo' Christmas, Hey, Ho! -
 (Aka The Rappin' Version)

'Twas da night befo' Christmas & all in the hood,
Not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good.
The tube socks was hung on the window sill,
And we all had smiles up on our grill.

Mookie and BeBe was snug in the crib
In the back bedroom, cuz that's how we live.
And Moms in her do-rag and me with my nine,
Had just gotten busy cuz girlfriend is fine.

All of a sudden a lowrider rolled by,
Bumpin' phat beats cuz the system's fly.
I bounced to the window at a quarter pas'
Bout ready to pop a cap in somebody's ass!

I yelled to my lady, Yo peep this!
She said, Stop frontin' & just mind yo' bidness.
I said, for real doe, come check dis out.
We weren't even buggin', no worries, no doubt.

Cuz bumpin' an thumpin' from around da way
Was Santa, 8 reindeer and a sleigh.
Da beats was kickin', da ride was phat
I said, "Yo red Dawg, you all that!"

He threw up a sign and yelled to his boyz,
"Ay yo, give it up, let's make some noise!"
To the top of the projects & across the strip mall,
We gots ta go, I got a booty call!"

He pulled up his ride on the top a da roof,
And sippin' on a 40, he busted a move.
I yelled up to Santa, "Yo ain't got no stack!"
He said, "Damn homie, deese projects is wack!

But don't worry black, cuz I gots da skillz,
I learnt back when I hadda pay da billz."
Out from his bag he pulled 3 small tings:
A credit card, a knife, and a bobby pin.

He slid down the fire exscape smoove as a cat,
And busted the window wit' a b-ball bat.
I said, "Whassup, Santa? Whydya bust my place?"
He said,"You best get on up out my face!"

His threads was all leatha, his chains was all gold,
His sneaks was Puma and they was 5 years old.
He dropped down the duffle, Clippers logo on the side.
Santa broke out da loot and my mouf popped open wide.

A wink of his eye and a shine off his gold toof,
He cabbage patched his way back onto the roof
He jumped in his hooptie wit' rims made of chrome,
To tap that booty waitin' at home.

And all I heard as he cruised outta sight,
Was a loud and hearty.....BROOKLYN'S IN DA HOUSE!  




'Twas a Florida Christmas
By Glenn Danforth

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Brevard,
The natives were swimming or mowing the yard;
The charcoal was piled by the hibachi with care,
In hopes that half keg soon would be there;

The children were nestled in our Jacuzzi,
As the vodka began to make me feel woozy;
And mamma in her bikini, and I in my thong,
Realized a diet could do us no wrong;

When on the front lawn there arose such a clatter,
I crawled off the hammock to see what was the matter;
Our friends had arrived, dressed for the pool party,
Arms filled with gifts, and a case of Bacardi;

The moon on the breasts of my wife's best friend Ann,
Made me thankful for my pool, and that I'm a man;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a mini van packed with tourists so queer;

With a little old driver, so obnoxious and mad,
I knew in a moment his directions were bad;
More rapid than eagles his curses they came,
And he spit, and shouted, and called me weird names;

"You Dasher! You Dancer! You Prancer! You Vixen!
You Comet! You Cupid! You Donder and Blitzen!"
Directions I offered, before he got hotter,
"Head east," I informed him, "and ignore the water."

As the van-full of tourists drove off to their death,
Uncle Bill filled the air with his putrid breath;
"Gather 'round children," he said with such glee,
"The real Santy Claus ain't got nothin' on me";

And then, in a twinkling, he climbed on the roof,
Drunk once again, and acting the goof;
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney he came with barely a sound;

He stood semi-naked from his head to his foot,
Wearing only his stockings and 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, they were crossed, his gait was unsteady,
He smelled of cheap whisky, his nose like a cherry!
The children were ushered outside with much speed,
As we filled him with coffee, so much did he need;

We knew it was Christmas, 'twas the same scene each year,
Uncle Bill would get faced, and fall on his rear;
He had a small head and a humungous belly,
That shook when he laughed like an ocean of jelly;

The weight of a rhino, the height of an elf,
I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know we had something to dread;

He fell off the sofa and went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then called me a jerk;
I grabbed for his car keys, and called him a cab,
He tried to nail me, but missed with his jab;

The taxi came quick, it seemed like a week,
And away Billy drove, barely able to speak;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas Brevard! Hey, can I drink on this flight?" 




Christmas Italian Style

'Twas da night before Christmas,
And all troo da house
No creature was stirrin',
Not even a louse.

When up on da roof
I heard somethin'rap,
And I sprang to da winda
Wit a "knock off dat crap"!

When what to my
Wonderin' eyes should appear,
But da Don of all elfs,
And eight friggin' reindeer!

Wit' slicked back black hair,
And a sharp red silk suit,
Don Kringle wuz dere,
And he'd brought all da loot!

Wit' a slap to dere snouts,
And a yank on dere manes,
He coised and he shouted,
And called 'em by name:

"Yo Vinny, Yo Vito,
Yo Tony, Yo Frankie,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie,
Ay Michael, Ay Skankie!"

As I drew out my gun
And hid by da bed,
He flew troo da winda
And slapped me 'side da head.

"What da hell is you doin'
Drawin' down on da Don?
Now you're just gettin' coal,
You friggin' moron!"

He pointed his finga
Right unda my nose,
Den chomped his cigar
And up da chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh,
Yellin' "move out, ya cretins,
Dis snow's friggin' cold!
Or I'll trow youse all beatins!"

Den I heard him yell out,
What I least did expect,
"Merry Christmas to all,
And youse show some respect!" 




Wuz De Nite Befo Crimmus In Da Hood

Wuz de nite befo Crimmus;
An' all ower de hood;
ereybody wuz' sleepin';
Dey wuz sleepin' good.

We hunged up our stockings;
An hoped like de' heck;
That ol Sanna Clause;
Be bringin' our check.

All o'de fambily;
Wuz layin in de beds;
While Ripple and Thunderbird;
Dance tru' dey heads.
I passed out inna' flo;
Right nex to my Maw;
When I heard sech a fuss;
I thunk: "It mus be de law!!!"
I looked out thru de bars;
What covered my doe;
'spectin' de sheriff;
Wif a warrent fo sho.

And what did I see;
I said, "Lawd look at dat!!"
Ther' wuz a huge watermellon;
Pulled by giant warf rats!!
 
Now ober all de years;
Santa Claus, he be white;
But looks liken us bros;
Gets a black Sanna dis nite.

Faster dan a Po'lees car;
My home boy he came;
He whupped on dem warf rats;
An' called dem by name!
On Leroy, on 'Lonzo ;
And on Willie Lee;
On Saphire, on Shaniqua;
Dey wuz a site to see!!

As he landed dat watta' mellon;
Out der in da skreet;
I knowed it was fo' sho';
Da damndest site I ebber did see.

He didn't go down no chimbley;
He picked da' lock on my doe;
An' I sez to myself;
"Shit!! He done dis befoe!!!"

He had dis big bag;
Full of prezents I 'xpect;
Wid Air Jordans and fake gold;
To wear roun' my neck.
But he left no good prezents;
Jus started stealing my shit;
Got my drugs, got my guns,
Even got my burglar's kit!!

Wit my stuff in de bag;
Out da window he flewed;
I woudda' tried to catched him;
But he stoled my 'nife too!!

He jumped on dat wadda' mellon;
An' whipped out a switch;
He wuz gone in a seccon';
Dat son of a bitch!!

Next year I be hopin':
Anutha Sanna we git;
Cuz' diz here Sanna Clause;
Jus' ain't werf a shit!!!
 



Have A Stealth Christmas
 
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defenses were up, with electronic eyes.
Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,
As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.
 
Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,
Was triply-redundant linked to the Blue Cube,
And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense,
That nothing that flew could slip through our defense.
 
When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter,
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter,
I dialed up the gain and then quick as a flash,
Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.
 
And there found the source of the warning we'd heeded,
An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded.
"Alert status red!" went the word down the wire,
As we gave every system the codes that meant "FIRE"!
 
On Aegis! Up Patriot, Phalanx and Hawk!
And scramble our fighters -- let's send the whole flock!
Launch decoys and missiles! Use chaff by the yard!
Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard!
 
They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged,
Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged,
And the sky was lit up with a demonic light,
As the foe met his fate in the high arctic night.
 
So we sent out some recon to look for debris,
Yet all that they found, both on land and on sea,
Were some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot,
Broken sleighbells, white hair, and a deer's parachute.
 
Now it isn't quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down.
There are unhappy kids in each village and town.
For the Spirit of Christmas can't hope to evade,
All the web of defenses we've carefully made.
 
Just look how the gadgets we use to protect us,
In other ways alter, transform, and affect us.
They keep us from things that make life more worth living,
Like love for each other, and thoughts of just giving.

But a crash program's on: Working hard, night and day,
All the elves are constructing a radar-proof sleigh.
So let's wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health,
For the future has hope: Santa's coming by stealth! 




Navy version of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.'

'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived in a crowd
In a 40-man berthing, with shipmates so loud.
I had come down the exhaust stack with presents to give,
And to see just who in this rack did live.

I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
No tinsel, No presents, not even a tree.
No stockings were hung, just boots close at hand,
On the bulkhead hung pictures of far distant land.

He had medals and badges and awards of all kind,
And a sober thought came into my mind.
For this place was different, it was so dark and dreary
I had found the house of a sailor, once I could see clearly.

The sailor lay sleeping, silent and alone,
Curled up in his rack, dreaming of home.
The face was so gentle, the berthing in such good order,
Not how I pictured a United States Sailor.

Was this the hero whom I saw on TV?
Defending his country so we all could be free?
I realized the families that I've seen this night,
Owed their lives to these sailors who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a new Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year
Because of sailors like this one sleeping right here.

I couldn't help but wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve on a sea, far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The sailor awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, for this life is my choice."
The sailor rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours so silent, so still,
And we both shivered from the night's cold chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the sailor rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure!"




THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS - MILITIA STYLE!
By Carolyn D. Hart

Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the land,
Not a gun was unloaded,
Not even the Garand.

The MREs were nestled
In their backpacks with care,
With hopes that they wouldn't
Become needed fare.

The old Bronco waited
With tanks full and level.
The CB and shortwave
Were ready and able.

Under the tree
There were bright glints of brass
And masks to protect
From the haze of teargas.

Then outside the house,
There came such a clatter.
We sprang from our beds
To see what was the matter.

There in the yard,
To be seen by us all
Was a large group of men
Who were ready to brawl.

They were dressed all in black
From their heads to their feet.
Their faces were covered
By ski masks quite neat.

They had full auto weapons
And flashbang grenades.
They had tanks and black helos,
To make us afraid.

But when one quick, short call
To the pagers was made,
Within one or two hours
Hundreds came to our aid.

Militia and patriots
From near and from far,
Came to stand by our side
Gainst the ATF czar.

So many had gathered
To face down the foe,
That they loaded their things
And away they did go.

And I heard them exclaim,
As they drove out of sight,
"Damn those militia--
They're too ready to fight!"

Our Christmas was merry
In spite of the scare
Because we had taken
The time to prepare.

We will not be frightened
By government force.
Like the militia of old
We *will* stay the course. 




Twas the Night Before Christmas,
by MP Luke Blaser (Ft. Campbell)
   
Twas the night before Christmas, and all over post
everybody was speeding, and all loved to boast.
As they sped out the gates, they shouted with glee,
"The MPs are slow, they'll never catch me."
   
With my book full of tickets, and radar in hand,
I set out to write every knob in the land.
I scratched my forehead, and pondered a bit,
Texas and Chaffee is where I would sit.
   
I'd no sooner set up, and tested the gun
when I heard the whining of the faithful K-1.
Then 20, then 30, then 40, then more,
I reached for the radio, "Stop outbound Gate 4."
   
With my blue lights a flashing, I raced towards the gate
in hopes that I would not be too late
As I pulled in behind it, I stared with dismay.
The guys at the gate had stopped a red sleigh.
   
I bit my lip, as I said with a sneer,
"traffic stop...gate four, ...on nine tiny deer."
He was a jolly fat man, dressed all in red,
with empty beer cans piled up in his sled.

His nose was bright red, his eyes twinkled a bit,
it was not hard to tell that Santa was lit!
"Santa, you've got no license for your sleigh or your deer.
Step out of the sled and move to the rear."
   
He failed every test, then did he fuss,
with a mouth like a sailor, he started to cuss.
He was cursing at me, and cursing at others,
and then made a comment concerning my mother. 

"Santa," I said, "You don't deserve any slack
put your hands on the trunk and walk your feet back."
He started to boil and then acted tough
so we spun him around and slapped on the cuffs.

As I cuffed him I heard him say to himself,
"You're just hassling me because I'm an elf."
Kicking and fighting we threw him in back,
impounded his sleigh and took his reindeer to SAC.

When we got to the station, he was raising all hell
and it shook the whole building when he was thrown in the cell.
He wanted a lawyer and he blew a two-four
and then Mrs. Claus showed up at the door.
   
He left with his wife, in a very quiet way,
and we gave him back his deer and the sleigh.
The news would soon spread, all over the land,
about the night at Ft. Campbell, when Santa got slammed.
   
And I was the bad guy, some people would say
for stopping the old elf in his bright crimson sleigh.
And I heard him shout as they drove out of sight,
"Don't expect any toys under your tree tonight!" 




Twas the Night Before Armed Forces Style

By HMC(FMF/SW) Mark Forsberg
'Twas the night before Christmas as I flew o'er the Marine Base,
when I spied a young man who seemed out of place.
His eyes showed compassion, his hair a bit long,
but his head was held high and his body was strong.

His air was confident, his uniform smart,
but what impressed me most was the size of his heart.
For he embodied honor, one of his country's best,
and the words U.S. NAVY showed large on his chest.

As I stood there in wonder and gazed into his eyes,
the words that he spoke took me quite by surprise.
"What's wrong Santa, haven't you ever seen a sailor before?"
I sensed something special and longed to know more.

"To be honest, this field thing wasn't part of my plan,
but God didn't give me a boat or tin can."
The words he spoke next surprised me all the more,
"But I'm as proud of my Navy as I am of the Corps!"

"Don't worry Santa, that I'm a sailor you see,
for when a Marine goes down they will still call on me.
They will forget I'm a sailor, they'll call in my stock.
At the top of their lungs they'll yell, "Get me the Doc!"

"And I'll answer that call, anytime, anywhere.
Though I know I'm a target I really don't care.
I'll face incoming fire as I race cross the land,
and use my very own body to shield a downed man."

"Working long hours and into the night,
my unit's battle is over, but I'm just starting to fight.
For the life of every Marine is sacred to me.
I refuse to surrender them to death, and in that I'll find victory."

"And yet I'll take the time to comfort a dying man,
to sit down by his side, to reach out and hold his hand.
For it takes as much courage to care as to fight.
For just as the poem says, many don't "go gently into that night."

"Santa, it's not any one uniform that makes you a man,
but rather it's those ideals for which you choose to stand.
I draw my line here, it's long and it's plain.
For pain, hurt and suffering are the things I disdain."

I know very well that I may lose my life,
so that a Marine may see an unmet child and young wife.
So Santa, it really doesn't matter if they don't like my hair,
I'm a Navy Corpsman, their Doc, and I'll always be there."

"I follow the brave Docs who have come long before,
from Belleau Wood, Iwo and Lebanon's shore.
As history proudly shows, they all gave their best,
and for those who have died, surely they're blessed."

"At Inchon, the gulf and times during Tet,
our brothers have fallen, but we carry on yet.
for we carry their honor and legacy still."
As I held back my tears it took all of my will.

I had to leave him there for I had other plans,
but I know in my heart that the Corps is in good hands.
As I flew away I heard his laughter, it rang so loud and clear.
"Hey, Santa, how 'bout a nice pair of boots for the 26 miler next year?" 




The Lonely Soldier Before Christmas

Twas the night before christmas, He lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of Plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
 
With medals and badges, Awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, Silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a united states soldier.
 
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
 
Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a bright christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
 
I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold christmas eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
 
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, This life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my god, My country, my corps."
 
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still
And we both shivered from the cold night's chill.
 
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark, night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
 
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "carry on santa, It's christmas day, all is secure."
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right.
"Merry christmas my friend, and to all a good night."
 



A Marion Barry Christmas
                                      
T'was the night before christmas and all through DC,
not a creature was stirring except Marion B.
The streets were abandoned, while drug dealers slept,
but the mayor in his limo, through northwest he crept.
                                      
A silver spoon was hung from his neck with great care,
in hopes that Charles Lewis soon would be there.
When, all at once there arose such a clatter,
he halted his limo to see what was the matter.
                                      
And what, to his wondering eyes should appear,
but a pile of white powder, a mountain of cheer.
He jumped from the limo, lickety split.
Five minutes later the mayor was lit.
                                      
He snorted and shoveled that coke up his nose.
His eyes were all bloodshot and glowed like a rose.
Back to the limo he ran like a flash.
Now that that's gone let's go home to my stash.
                                      
I heard him exclaim with no hint of strife,
I'll snort if I like, I'm mayor for life. 




The Night Before Gingrinch
 
"Twas the night before Christmas, and all thorugh the land
Not a liberal was standing, neither woman nor man.
Stockings were strung by the chimneys with care,
In hopes that Newt Gingrich soon would be there.

Republicans nestled, all snug in their beds,
While capital gains danced in their heads.
They had talked with the rich well into the night,
Drafting a contract far to the right.

Ma in her kerchief and Pa in his cap,
Are just welfare loafers who need to be zapped.
In fact, those poor kids, dreaming sugarplums fine,
Are orphanage bound 'cause they're way out of line.

A balanced budget amendment we'll pass in a flash,
With nary a hint where we'll find the cash.
We'll term-limit Santa, a big spender, for sure,
Unless he cuts gifts to the working-class poor.

But our Pentagon friends can dreams all they like,
Their stockings are stuffed with arms for a strike!
And Olds Mrs. Claus should remain in her place,
No policy ventures--just cookies to bake.

Out on the roof that clatter you hear
Are illegal immigrants who shouldn't be here.
We'll cut off their children from health care and schools
And show them their journey's a venture for fools.

Where elves have been stealing--three strikes and they're out!
Jail 'em or fry 'em, they'll know we've got clout!
The enviorment's fine, the movement's a fake.
Who cares if the reindeer are poisoned or safe?

Regulations must go, Big government's out!
So chimney inspections are highly in doubt.
Stop foreign aid, The U.N.'s a scam.
No Christmas sleigh stops in an lien land!

On Helms! On D'Amato! On Armey and Gingrich!
Republican forces will soon make us rich.
Tax breaks for the wealthy, high rates for the banks,
When '98 comes we'll be 'round for their thanks.

The New Deal is over. Down with the poor!
We can't afford Rudolph, Show him the door. 




Twas A Night In The White House
 
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land
The Iraqis were hiding their scuds in the sand
The missiles were hid under the palace stairs
knowing the inspectors might never reach there

With Bill in his nightie and Hilly with none
they had just tucked in for a night full of fun
When out in the oval the red phone was ringing
it was a Saddam canary doing his Christmas singing

He said that the chemicals were inside christmas hams
cause they'd be harder to hit with a pod full of SAM's
Bill said "shazam"! We'll blow them to hell
toast all their goats and piss in their wells

The stoolie said wait here's a little filler
they plan to kidnap your wife the Foster man killer
Bill said "Oh really" call me back next week
and when Saddam gets Hilly tell her turn the other cheek

So to hell with Saddam and all of Hezbolla
Cause I've still got the hots for a girl named Paula 




Twas the Night Before Impeachment
by Lew Rockwell

'Twas the Night Before Impeachment, when all through the House,
All the Congress was stirring, even Conyers, the louse.
The Articles were hung by the Capitol with care,
In hopes that Saint Bubba would be trapped in the lair.

The Republicans were nestled, all smug with the Feds,
While visions of perjury danced in their heads.
Slick Willie and gang from UN-Israel returned,
Nut-n-yahoo's instructions in their ears still burned.

And Barr with his rhetoric and Hyde with his trap,
Had just settled in for a long evening's nap.
When out in The Gulf, there arose such a clatter
They clicked on CNN to see what was the matter.

When what to their wondering eyes should appear
But Tomahawk cruise missiles flying like reindeer.
With a Presidential address, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment, it must be Saint Slick!

More rapid than eagles, his supporters they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Conyers, now Gephardt, forget about The Vixen!
On Barney! On Maxine! I'm no Richard Nixon!!!"

"From Capitol Hill to the Washington Mall,
Now dash away, dash away, dash  away all !!!"
And then the Republicans heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As they scratched their heads and were turning around
Resilient Saint Willie scored another rebound.
No longer was Willie eating humble pie,
While assaulting Saddam with his bombs from the sky.

A bundle of weapons he had flung at Iraq,
It looked once again like Slick Willie was back.
His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the hair on his head was as white as the snow.
The stump of a stogie, he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed  like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump - a right jolly old elf,
And the Republicans wept, in spite of themselves.

And a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave them to know they had something to dread.
He spoke the right words and went straight to his work
Hard to believe that an Intern once called him, "The Jerk."

And shaking his finger and thumbing his nose,
By "Wagging The Dog," up the polls he rose.
He turned to his spinmeisters and gave them a whistle,
Then they cheered-on Slick Willie as he launched another missile.

They all heard him exclaim, with Impeachment out of sight,
"To hell with Christians, and Ramadan too...
Happy Hanukkah to all, and to all a good night." 




Twas the Night Before Impeachment
 
Twas the night before impeachment, and all through the house,
all the congressmen were stirring, to kick out the louse.
All the boxes were packed, by the front door with care,
in the hopes that Al Gore would soon be there.

The American public were snug in their beds,
visions of high stock returns danced in their heads.
"We like our President, we'd like him to stay,
we don't care what he did, Ken Starr should pay."

Over in Iraq, Saddam rose with a clatter,
with each bombs thud, his weapons would scatter.
"Goddamn Bill Clinton, and his perjurious way's,
he fucked up, now I have to pay."

"I've dicked him around, that much is true,
about foreign policy, he hasn't a clue.
They've looked everywhere, even up my ass,
but they still can't find any poisonous gas."

Back at home, Bill's distracted us again,
We can see footage of the bombs, live on CNN.
His statements under oath were nothing but lies,
big old fat ones, like Monica's thighs.

When will we learn, what price will we pay?
Will we trust the President again someday?
When the commander in chief, for the law shows disdain,
he will continue to cause the country much pain. 




Twas the Night Before Impeachment
 
Twas the night before Impeachment and all through the House
Republicans spoke out and called Bill a louse
For cheating his wife and lying in court.
Was it misdemeanor, well, or was a tort?

While loudly the Democrats strongly opposed
(though they knew the emperor rarely wore clothes)
"Though it was a lie it was just about sex"
This made the republicans sorely get vexxed.
"it is not about sex, for he lied in court"
(but was it misdemeanor, high crime or a tort?)

As they all argued, suddenly there was a boom
as pieces of Iraq met up with their doom.
Missiles and bombs, gunfire and blood
As cruise missiles hungrily saught out more scud's

But over in Iraq, though Saddam lost respect.
At lease the CIA still delivered his check.
For valueable service frequently performed
We need a scape goat, so saddam was pre-warned.
the bombs they will fall, here, here and here,
So at least try to act like your feeling some fear.

And then from Penn. Ave, there came a big laugh
(yes from Ol' Bill Clinton)
For he just read the Penthouse that Flint guy was printing

"Bob Livingston, Ho Ho, that son of a gun, he still cant top
the number of chicks that _I've_ done"
But 33 years he kept from his wife.
If I coulda done that, I'd have an easier life.

But their ain't no way, that I will resign.
No matter how much Al Gore doth squirm and whine
I'll just order up more bombs on the phone, and find a new intern
Whom i can bone.

Besides that, I'll win in senatorial court, regardless of if
its midemeanor or tort. 




Twas the Night Before Impeachment
by javadude@texas.net

'Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the House,
Representatives discussed Bill betraying his spouse;
While bombing began, cruise missiles in air,
In hopes that Saddam soon would scare;

The Iraqis were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of explosions danced in their heads;
The Commander in Chief, has caused all this crap,
From inviting an intern to sit in his lap.

When out on the Capital there arose such a clatter,
Democrats and Republicans argued the matter.
Away to the window I saw I bright flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

Even at midnight, Capitol offices aglow
Giving the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
Articles of impeachment, threaten Bill's career!

With a little old driver, whose name was Hyde,
Ready to impeach the man who lied.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, GOODLATTE! now, BONO! now, MCCOLLUM and STARR!
On, JENKINS! on CANADY!  SENSENBRENNER and BARR!
To the House and the Senate! to Capitol Hill!
Impeach! Impeach! Impeach away Bill!"

As dry leaves that before the political winds fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the Congressmen flew,
With the sleigh full of accusations, and Ken Starr too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on C-SPAN
The Democrats defending the President again.
I changed the channel to CNN,
Attacks on Iraq, I heard them defend.

The debates and defenses and politics rage,
An embarassment is this country's history page;
Confusing the issues is the rule of the day,
This is much more than political play.

The President's eyes -- how they twinkled! how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His deceiving mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Every time he would speak, his nose would grow;

His actions betrayed the trust of the people,
Of defenses we hear, some are quite feeble,
Many have urged Bill to resign,
But he says this has never entered his mind.

We listen to this mess on the evening news,
No matter what happens, we Americans lose.
Impeachent!  Bombing Iraq, to show U.S. might.
My what a Christmas.  To all a good night! 




Twas the Night Before Impeachment
by Bill Holmes
 
'Twas the night before impeachment and all through the House,
All the Congress was stirring, even Conyers, the louse.
The Articles were hung on the Capitol with care,
In hope that 'ol Bubba would be trapped in his lair.

Republicans were warmly nestled with the Feds,
While visions of perjury danced in their heads,
And Barr with his rhetoric, and Hyde with his trap,
had just settled in for an after noon nap,

When out in the Gulf there arose such a clatter,
They tuned CNN to see what's the matter,
And what to their wondering eyes should appear,
but Tomahawk missiles cruising like reindeer,

With a presidential address, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment, it must be Ol' Slick,
More loyal than beagles, his sup porters they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name,

Now Conyers, now Gephardt, forget about the vixen!,
On Barney! On Albright! Hey, I'm no Nixon!,
from Capitol Hill to the Washington Mall,
Now dash away, Spin away, Fool them all.

And then the Republicans heard on the roof,
the prancing and pawing of each little goof,
As they scratched their heads and were turning around,
Resilient ol' Slick polled another rebound.

No longer was he eating his big humble pie,
While assaulting Saddam with bombs from the sky,
A bundle of noncompliant weapons he had flung at Iraq,
It looked like again, Slick Willie was back.

His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples so merry;
he grasped for an intern - he wanted a cherry;
His droll, big mouth was all drawn in a grin;
he knew all at once he had fooled them again;

The stump of a stogie he held in his teeth,
The smoke had encircled his head like a wreath,
He had a broad face like an old lumberjack,
and two baggy eyes from doin' the crack,

He was confident and strong, a right jolly old elf,
the Republicans, they wept in spite of themselves,
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
soon let them know, they had something to dread.

He spoke the right words, and went straight to his work,
Ignoring the fact, that some think him a jerk,
And shaking his finger, and thumbing his nose,
by "Wagging the Dog," up the polls he rose.

He turned to his spinmeistors and gave them whistles,
They cheered Slick Wllie, as he launched planeloads of missiles.
They heard him exclaim, with Impeachment out of sight,
"Happy Ramadan to all, and Thank God for this fight." 




Twas the Night Before Impeachment

'Twas the night before crisis, and behind White House doors,
Not a creature was stirring, especially Al Gore.
The interns were nestled, dressed in their berets,
In hopes that Saint Bubba would come out to play.

When on the East Lawn, there arose such a clatter,
Even Sam Donaldson lost control of his bladder.
Away to our TVs we flew like a flash,
There's a special report, and it's pre-empting M*A*S*H!

And what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a homely lil' troll, with tapes for us to hear.
With a K-Mart bought blazer, and a bad frizzy 'do,
And a tale to be told-to me, and to you.

On the chair! On the carpet! On the Oval Office desk!
With a chubby young intern, who was all eyes and chest.
The Pres had been careless, indeed, dumb and dumber.
Now the whole world knew Bubba Had gotten a hummer.

And Monica Lewinsky emerged from the rubble,
If she'd just kept her mouth shut, 
We'd not have all this trouble.

And thus set in motion, a whole web o' spiders,
With pundits galore, and "White House insiders.
You ask, "Who would care about Bill and his penis?"
Republican Ken Starr, and he's armed with subpoenas!

More rapid than eagles, process servers, they flew!
"Here's one for you! And for you! And you, too!"
"Now Jordan! Now Cockell! Is there anyone else?!?
Let's subpoena the lawyers! And Bubba himself!!"

"We want you to tell us about Bill's private life,
And anyone he sleeps with, 'cept, of course, his wife."
And many months later, after long we've all suffered,
Let's examine more closely just what Starr's uncovered.

We've learned "Little Bill" has a mind of his own,
And - horror of horrors - He likes to get blown!
A funny fact surfaced, after 40 million bucks:
Seems most people don't care just who Clinton fucks.

The economy's great, and shows no signs of slowing.
Hell, we hope Ms. Lewinsky NEVER stops blowing!
Now the public's grown weary. Will this sleaze never end?
We just want to get back to "E.R.", and to "Friends."

Now Monica, Linda-And Ken Starr, you suck -
Get the hell off my TV, Your 15 minutes are up! 




'Twas the Night After Christmas
By Jeff Foxworthy

'Twas the night after Christmas and all through the trailer,
The beer had gone flat and the pizza was staler.
The tube socks hung empty, no candies or toys
And I was camped out on my old Lay-Z-Boy.

The kids they weren't talking to me or my wife,
The worst Christmas they said they had had in their lives.
My wife couldn't argue and neither could I,
so I watched TV and my wife, she just cried.

When out in the yard the dog started barkin', 
I stood up and looked and saw old Sheriff Larkin.
He yelled, "Roy I am sworn to uphold the laws
And I got a complaint here from a feller named Claus."

I said, "Claus, I don't know nobody named Claus,
And you ain't taking me in without probable cause."
Then the Sheriff he said, "The man was shot at last night."
I said, "That might have been me, just what does he look like."

The Sheriff replied, "He's a jolly old feller, with big beer gut belly, 
that shakes when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly.
He sports a long beard, and a nose like a cherry."
I said, "Sheriff that sounds like my wife's sister Sherri."

"It's no time for jokes Roy" the Sheriff he said."
The man I'm describing in dressed all in red.
I'm here for the truth now, it's time to come clean.
Tell me what you've done, tell me what you've seen."

Well I started to lie then I thought what the hell,
It wouldn't be the first time that I spent New Years in jail.
I said, "Sheriff it happened last night about ten,
And I thought that my wife had been drinking again."

When she walked in from work she was as white as a ghost.
I thought maybe she had seen one of them UFO's.
But she said that a bunch of deer had just flown over her head,
And stopped on the roof of our good neighbor Red.

Well I ran outside to look and the sight made me shudder,
A freezer full of venison standing right on Red's gutter.
Well my hands were a shakin' as I grabbed my gun,
When outta Red's chimney this feller did run.

And slung on his back was this bag over flowin'.
I thought he stolen Red's stuff while old Red was out bowlin'.
So I yelled, "Drop fat boy, hands in the air!"
But he went about his business like he hadn't a care.

So I popped a warning shot over his head.
Well he dropped that bag and he jumped in that sled.
And as he flew off I heard him extort,
"That's assault with intent Roy, I'll see ya in court!" 




The Night Before a Redneck Christmas

'Twas the Night before Christmas, and all through the shack
Not a creature was stirrin', cept the lice on muh back.
The skoal cans wuz nailed to the screen door with care,
With hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were sleepin', all snug in their beds,
While visions of  tractor pulls danced in their heads.
And Ma in her nightgown all stained with pound cake.
Had just settled down to watch Ricki Lake.

When out in the driveway, a loud noise I heard,
I opened the winder to check muh T-bird.
I ran to the door, like I's on a mission,
But I tripped on some parts from muh granny's transmission.

The moon shone outside, the hound dog wuz barkin'.
Muh daughter weren't  home yet, she wuz still out parkin'.

When what to muh whiskey blind eyes should I see
But a Chevy S-10, pulled by eight flyin' sheep.
With a fat nasty driver, so disgustin' and sick
I said "Shoot Fire!" That must be St. Nick!

More rapid than X-lax his wooly sheep came
And he belched and he hollered, and he called 'em by name.
Now CLIFFORD!  Now VERNON!  Now LESTER and ENUS!
On FESTUS!  On ELMER!  On ROSCOE and CLETUS!

From the top of the shack to them there garbage bins
Now Dash Away!  Dash Away!  Dash Away youins!

I heard a loud sound on the roof of muh shack.
Pud down muh beer and went fer muh gun rack.
He fell through the roof, plum killed my dog,
I swear that ole' Santa looked just like Boss Hog.

He wore a T-shirt, rebel flag on the front,
And his jeans were all bloody from that morning's hunt.
A big nekkid lady tattooed on his arm,
And he wore black boots that he'd picked up in Nam.

His eyes how they glazed from too much Wild Turkey.
From the side of his mouth hung a stick of beef jerky.
A scar on his cheek from a fight with the cops.
The veins on his face looked ready to pop.

The butt of a Marlboro clung to his lip
He wore a hip pack full of B-B-Q chips.
He had a fat face and a hairy beer belly.
I ain't seen one that big since muh ex-wife Shelly.

He was gap-toothed and dumb with an I.Q. of three
And I laughed cause that redneck was smarter than me.
A wink of his eye, a fierce shake of his head,
From his hair came a rat that ran under the bed.

He reached in his sack, sipped his gin and tonic,
Then filled the kid's stockings with Hooked on Phonics.
His toys came from Big Lots and they weren't very nice
But he had lots of them and yuh can't beat the price.

He gave us a tape of them hound dogs that sing Jingle Bells.
Some Crisco, some Spam, some Oatmeal Cream pies,
And a Nascar T-shirt in Double X size.

When the presents were gone and he had no more,
He staggered and stumbled right through muh screen door.

He hopped in his truck, to his sheep gave an order
"Hurry up youins!  To the 'Bama border!"
And I heard him cry out, with a strong southern drawl,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU  REDNECKS!  MERRY   CHRISTMAS
Y'ALL!"  YEE HAWWWW!  Ya'll have a good'un, ya hear? 




The Night Before a Redneck Christmas
 
'Twas the night before Christmas in my redneck house;
Junior was wringing the neck of a mouse.
My .357 sat right on my lap
Just waiting for Santa, to take all his crap.

The young'uns were restless and watching in shifts
To see if he'd come and I'd shanghai some gifts,
When out from the yard came a godawful noise
O could it be him with a shitload of toys?

I jumped from my chair and my crotch screamed in pain
I caught my left nut on my wallet's big chain
But then I unwrapped it and flew out the door
Yelling, "Hold it right there, you old son of a whore!"

"Hands in the air and kick over that sack,
And then real slowly move 20 feet back."
He did as I told him, fat, stupid old elf;
I laughed so damn hard I near pissed on myself.

I grabbed his big bag with a hearty guffaw
Then I dragged it inside after spitting some chaw.
I heard him take off - in a second he split,
Leaving my yard heaped with fresh reindeer shit.

Back in my chair I let out such a yelp
That the wife and the kids came to offer their help,
Their eyes filled with wonder - I started to drag
A whole shitload of presents from Santa's big bag.

I big can of crawdads for when I go fishin'
A whopping belt buckle - a brand new transmission,
A carton of Redman, some boots and a knife,
A nice leather strap just for beating the wife.

A matched set of hubcaps, some new fuzzy dice,
A country 8-track and a Hustler, how nice!
An inflatable dollie for when the old hag
Starts her bitching and moaning and goes on the rag.


When out of the bag I had pulled every bit
I said "Looks like you kids won't be getting no shit."
Here was my chance to try out my new strap
When they started their bawling and screaming and crap.

I chased them upstairs and I popped me a brew,
I sat back in my chair, filled my mouth up with chew,
With my heart full of gladness, my soul full of cheer,
I yelled up, "Maybe you'll get some presents next year!" 




The Night Before a Redneck Christmas
 
It was the night before Christmas, and all through the trailer park,
not a pop-top was poppin', not even Ole Blue barked.
Our stockin's was hung over the space heater with care,
in the hopes that Santy would fill 'em with Viennas and beer.

The kids was asleep in their NASCAR pj's,
Dreamin' of Goo Goo Clusters, Moon Pies, and Milkyway's.
And Earlene in her curlers and me in my Earnhardt cap,
had just settled into our La-Z-Boys for Wheel of Fortune and a nap.

Then out in the vacant lot I heart such a commotion,
I thought it was neighbor Clyde, finally got his T'bird in motion.
I heaved out of my recliner and to the window I flew,
Busted out the screen and hollered to Ole Blue.
 
The moon was shinin down on my old wrecked cars,
so bright they was sparklin' like rusty old stars.
And I couldn't believe by own hardworkin' eyes,
when a jacked-up Chevy pickup come flyin' through the sky!
 
Faster'n Ole Ironhead his possums they came,
and he whooped and hollered and called 'em by name:
"Git up Sooner! Hi Duke! Move yer tails Yaller and Spud!
On Blackie! On Queenie! You mind me Duchess and Bud!"

"To the top of the satellite dish! To the top of the shed!
Now move it n' Step on it! Ya'll get out the lead!"
You know how on our old road whenev'r a car goes by,
there's all this dirt that flies up into the sky?

That's how this crew went straight on up to my roof,
with a pickup full of toys, a gun rack, and Redneck Santa too.
Then 'fore I could pop my teeth in I heerd up on the tin,
the scrabbling around of them flying possums of his'n.

I yanked my head back in the trailer and hitched up my shorts,
Down the dryer vent Redneck Santa came with a grunt and a snort!
He was dressed in red-and-green camo from his neck to his feet,
and I had to give him credit he still had most of his teeth.
 
Looked like stuff from Earlene's yard sale slung on his back,
There's flyswatters an' 8-tracks stickin' out of his pack.
When he winked his eye I knew fer sure he'd treat us right,
why, he just might even leave me some ammo tonight!
 
I stood there dreamin' of a whitetail while I watched him work,
then he stopped and like a real man, let out a fart and a burp.
He topped off our stockin's with Moon Pies and bottle rockets,
then squoze up that dryer vent like Spam in your pocket.
 
He jumped in his pickup, laid down on the horn,
And I'm not lyin', they took off with their possum tails flyin'.
But I heerd him holler as he headed for the 7-11,
"Merry Christmas to all! And may all rednecks get into heav'n!" 




The Night Before a Redneck Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the shack,
I could hear the distinct sounds of my Grandpappy's hack.
We had just hung our stockings in a jubilant mood,
in hopes that St. Elvis would bring us some food.

Daddy was nestled all snug in his bed,
coal dust covering his pillow and head.
No wood in the stove, the cold numbed my feet,
to add insult to injury Ol' Red was in heat.

When out on the lawn I heard the grinding of gears,
I sprang from my bed almost frightened to tears.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh pulled by a dark green John Deere.

With a little ol' driver shaking his pelvis,
I instantly knew that it must be St. Elvis.
He was dressed all in sequins from his head to his toes,
and the top of his lip curled up to his nose.

His hips how they twitched, his gut was titanic,
when he leaned on the porch rail, I went into a panic.
Huffing and puffing, his face turning red,
soon gave me to know he'd come back from the dead.

He sang not a note, but went straight to his work,
filled all the stockings and turned with a jerk.
Then hitching his pants, lumbered back to the sleigh,
fired up the tractor, and was soon on his way.

Then he bid us adieu with his personal touch...
"Merry Christmas to all and Thanks Veramuch!" 




THE NET BEFORE CHRISTMAS
A festive holiday poem
by Hugh Drumm & Vincent Ambrose

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
There were hacker's a surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet.
The e-mails were stacked by the modem with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
While visions of Java danced in their dreams.
My wife on the sofa and me with a snack,
We just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac).

When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.
To a new page my Mac flew like a flash,
Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!!

I gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.

When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
Then Nick glanced toward my screen, my Mac called them by name;

"Now Compaq! Now Acer!", my speaker did reel;
"On Apple! On Gateway!" Santa started to squeal!
"Jump onto the circuits! And into the chip!
Now speed it up! Speed it up! Make this thing hip!"

The screen gave a flicker, he was into my RAM,
Then into my room rose a full hologram!
He was dressed in all red, from his head to his shoes,
Which were black (the white socks he really should lose).

He pulled out some discs he had stored in his backpack.
Santa looked like a dude who was rarin' to hack!
His eyes, how they twinkled! His glasses, how techno!
This ain't the same Santa that I used to know!

With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Santa soon let me know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, gave my Mac a quick poke,
And accessed my C drive with only a stroke.

He defragged my hard drive, and added a SIMM,
Then threw in some cool games, just on a whim!
He worked without noise, his fingers they flew!
He distorted some pictures with Kai's Power Goo!

He updated Office, Excel and Quicken,
Then added a screensaver with a red clucking chicken!
My eyes widened a bit, my mouth stood agape,
As he added the latest version of Netscape.

The drive gave a whirl, as if it were pleased,
St. Nick coyly smiled, the computer appeased.
Then placing his finger on the bridge of his nose,
Santa turned into nothing but ones and zeros!

He flew back into my screen and through my uplink,
Back into the net with barely a blink.
But I heard his sweet voice as he flew from my sight,
"Happy surfing to all, and to all a good byte!"




The Worm Before Christmas
by David Bradley, Betty Cheng, Hal Render,
Greg Rogers and Dan LaLiberte)

Twas the night before finals, and all through the lab
Not a student was sleeping, not even McNabb.
Their projects were finished, completed with care
In hopes that the grades would be easy (and fair).

The students were wired with caffeine in their veins
While visions of quals nearly drove them insane.
With piles of books and a brand new highlighter,
I had just settled down for another all nighter --

When out from our gateways arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter;
Away to the console I flew like a flash,
And logged in as root to fend off a crash.

The windows displayed on my brand new Sun-3,
Gave oodles of info -- some in 3-D.
When, what to my burning red eyes should appear
But dozens of "nobody" jobs.  Oh dear!

With a blitzkrieg invasion, so virulent and firm,
I knew in a moment, it was Morris's Worm!
More rapid than eagles his processes came,
And they forked and exec'ed and they copied by name:

"Now Dasher!  Now Dancer!  Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet!  On Cupid!  On Donner and Blitzen!
To the sites in .rhosts and host.equiv
Now, dash away!  dash away!  dash away all!"

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the phone,
The complaints of the users.  (Thought I was alone!)
"The load is too high!"  "I can't read my files!"
"I can't send my mail over miles and miles!"

I unplugged the net, and was turning around,
When the worm-ridden system went down with a bound.
I fretted.  I frittered.  I sweated.  I wept.
Then finally I core dumped the worm in /tmp.

It was smart and pervasive, a right jolly old stealth,
And I laughed, when I saw it, in spite of myself.
A look at the dump of that invasive thread
Soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread.

The next day was slow with no network connections,
For we wanted no more of those pesky infections.
But in spite of the news and the noise and the clatter,
Soon all became normal, as if naught were the matter.

Then later that month while all were away,
A virus came calling and then went away.
The system then told us, when we logged in one night:
"Happy Christmas to all!  (You guys aren't so bright.)" 




The Night Before Christmas (Revisited)
by Gerry Ashley

'Twas the night before Christmas and there I just sat,
web-surfing and hoping for an IRC chat.
My wife was in e-mail my daughter as well,
my son trying to figure out HTML

When up on the roof there arose such a clatter!
But we didn't budge, thinking "What does it matter?"
My daughter thought, "Squirrels" my wife thought so too.
Son said, "Check it out, Dad" I said, "Why don't YOU?"

"I'm busy!" he said, "So am I!" I replied.
"I can't get this site up though God knows I've tried!"
Then down from the chimney some fat guy appeared
attired in red with white hair and a beard.

"Yule Greetings!" he cried with a wink and a stare
I've brought you all gifts! Come see, if you care!"

We gathered around in anticipation
but for Santa, 'twas nothing but endless frustration.
"I asked for a scanner!" my son said in rage.
I need to scan photos for my new homepage."

"And she wanted Java," said my wife for my daughter
as she stared at the sweater and bracelet he'd brought her.
"I needed a browser," I said with surprise
Then we saw the sadness, the tear in his eyes.

"My elves tried their best," the fat man said sadly.
We all felt just awful for behaving so badly.
"This web stuff ain't easy," he said, "I'm still learning."
"In fact it's a web site and home page I'M yearning."

"It's all so confusing and daunting to me.
And where I come from there's no ISP!"
We served him hot chocolate with cookies and such
at least he was grateful and thanked us so much.

Then turning his head, he said, "It's time to go"
But I grabbed his arm and simply said, "No."
I said "All these years while I have been living
It's always been you who's done all the giving."

My wife smiled at me then I said, "What the hell?
Let's work to build Santa his own URL!"

For the first time in months regardless of weather
my family was working no, playing together.
We built him a web site with e-mail and more.
A newsgroup, some jpegs and virtual gift store.

And when we were finished he looked on in wonder.
He chuckled, then shouted, voice booming like thunder:
"You've done it!  You've done it! he shouted with glee.
In truth, there was no one more happy than me.

"How can I repay you?" said Santa so dearly
"You already have!" we all said sincerely.
We knew he was choked up he spoke while still coughin'
and said "You should really all get out more often!"

He laughed as he said it then added, "I'm leaving,
but thanks for the web site...and thanks for believing!"
And we all heard him say as his voice broke the calm:
"Merry Christmas! Come visit www.santa.com!"
 



'Twas the Night Before Start-up
 
Twas the night before start-up and all through the net,
not a packet was moving; no bit nor octet.
The engineers rattled their cards in despair,
hoping a bad chip would blow with a flare.

The salesmen were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of data nets danced in their heads.
And I with my datascope tracings and dumps
prepared for some pretty bad bruises and lumps.

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
There stood at the threshold with PC in tow,
An ARPANET hacker, all ready to go.

I could see from the creases that covered his brow,
he'd conquer the crisis confronting him now.
More rapid than eagles, he checked each alarm
and scrutinized each for its potential harm.

On LAPB, on OSI, X.25! 
TCP, SNA, V.35!
His eyes were afire with the strength of his gaze;
no bug could hide long; not for hours or days.

A wink of his eye and a twitch of his head,
soon gave me to know I had little to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
fixing a net that had gone plumb berserk;

And laying a finger on one suspect line,
he entered a patch and the net came up fine!
The packets flowed neatly and protocols matched;
the hosts interfaced and shift-registers latched.

He tested the system from Gateway to PAD;
not one bit was dropped; no checksum was bad.
At last he was finished and wearily sighed
and turned to explain why the system had died.

I twisted my fingers and counted to ten;
an off-by-one index had done it again...
 



A Networkologist's Christmas (v. 950)

"Tis the night before Christmas," I thought with a frown.
I was stuck at the office.  The network was down.
The  routers were hung in the closet.  All crashed.
Their tables had holes in their data.  All trashed.

Remote distribution, it seems, just for fun,
Had erased DLLs Windows 95 needed to run
On 84 desktops way down in accounting.
I sat stunned at my desk, my blood pressure mounting.

When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter,
I saw that a server had something the matter.
There was smoke coming out of the main hard disk drive.
"No problem, " I thought.  "I'm set up with RAID 5. "

But I found out the system I thought was unstoppable
Had disk drives that turned out completely unswappable!
"No problem," I thought.  "I've tape backup to thank.
And then I discovered my backups were blank.

The UPS burped, and its lights all went out.
I started to scream!  I started to shout!
But nobody heard as I vented my rage.
My gurus were all on vacation those days.

And nobody's tech support answered the phone.
I was nose deep in trouble, completely alone.
When out at reception, I heard a soft knock.
As the hands just touched midnight on my desktop clock...

"What's your problem?" he asked. "Never mind, friend, I know.
I checked out your network five hours ago.
I did some proactive analysis, so
I knew that this time bomb was going to blow.

Who was this guy?  Who did he think he was?
He was dressed in red coveralls, white beard, black gloves.
His eyes had the twinkle of technical genius.
His smile cut down personal distance between us.

He spread out his tools, and went straight to his work.
"Whoever configured this network's a jerk,"
He said with a :-) as he quickly rebooted,
Uploaded some software, and smoothly rerouted

The LAN to a WAN that he quickly supplied
With bandwidth at least 20 gigabits wide
That went via wireless, I think, LEO,
To tech support elves waiting at the North Pole.

"Now bridging, now routing, now Ethernet hubs!"
He chanted as each piece of hardware he rubbed.
"Cheer up, my good friend! Lose that mindset so tragic!
Technology often looks just like some magic

To people who don't understand what we do.
Now a switch, emulation, now middleware glue!
Look at the protocols, check one or two,
Debug a bit, test a bit, presto!  We're through!"

My data was back!  Every system checked out!
Tears of joy wet my face as I wandered about.
"How can I thank you?  You must be Saint Nick!"
He said, 'Really, my friend, it's not such a great trick,

If you don't give up hope, focus on what you're doing,
And read all your issues of  NETWORK COMPUTING.'
And I heard him exclaim, as his reindeer were coursing,
"Merry Christmas to all!  And consider outsourcing!" 




A Hacker's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a computer was stirring, not even a mouse.
The hard drives were left on in each computer case
With a database for Santa, punched up in dBase.

The hackers were all snug asleep in their beds,
While visions of access codes danced in their heads.
And I with my PC and Ma with her Mac,
Had settled in for a long winter's nap.

When up from my modem there arose such a squeal,
I jumped from my bed and said, "What's the deal!!?!?"
To my computer I tore like a flash,
Hoping I wasn't suffering a Christmas Eve Crash.

A flashing green light on the front of my case,
Showed late-night activity (I hope not erase).
I turned on my monitor and what did appear,
But a .GIF old sleigh and eight blinking reindeer.

On a flashing bright icon I made a quick click,
And sure enough who appeared, but good old Saint Nick.
At 9600 baud the images they came,
As he loaded them up, he called them by name.

"Load Windows and Lotus, Prodigy and Quicken,
Add brand new DOS upgrades, and games for the children.
To the old root directory, to make room for them all,
How about a new hard drive, this one's all full!

As I watched as he worked through the database with care,
Checking the gift list we had left there.
He searched into his bag and pulled out with aplomb,
Bright shiny new discs for the new CD-ROM.

A brand new fax-modem (well, who asked for that!?!?),
Bundles of SIMMS, co-processors galore,
From one board to another, he filled up each hole.
And when he was finished, the tower cases were full,
With fun new software, just ready to install.

Then lining the cursor alongside of his nose,
Out of my new SVGA, up slowly he rose.
He jumped out of DOSSHELL, my SoundBlaster did sound,
As the TSR fell away, 'til next Christmas comes around.

Then I heard him exclaim as he up-loaded from sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good byte!! 




Twas a Fireman's Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town,
the fire siren echoed, blaring its sound.
The firefighters came running from far and from near,
and raced to the trucks, quickly donning their gear.

And I in my bunkers, my boots, and my hat,
jumped to the engine to see where the fire's at.
Down at the corner of Fifth and of Oak,
the dispatcher informed us of a house filled with smoke.

Smoke poured from the sides, from up, and from down,
yet up on the roof there was none to be found.
So up to the rooftop we raised us a ladder,
and climbed to the top to see what was the matter.

I came to the chimney and what did I see,
but a fellow in red stuck past his knees.
Well we tugged and we pulled until he came out,
then he winked with his eye and said with a shout.

"These newfangled chimneys, they make them too small,
for a fellow as I, not skinny at all."
With a twitch of his nose he dashed to his sleigh,
and called to his reindeer, "Up, up, and AWAY."

As we rolled up our hoses he flew out of sight,
saying "God bless our firefighters" and to all a good night.
An Internet Christmas Story




My Night Before Christmas

Twas, the night before Christmas, and all through the house.
Not a creature was stirring, except for my mouse.
No kids lived with me, so I thought I would chatter.
There'd be no damn reindeer, and no stupid clatter.

There'd be no fat elf, coming through my chimney.
I'll be alone, my computer and me.
I won't race to the window, to see him arrive.
I'll just sit right here...with windows ninety-five.

There's no one I know, as I'm surfing around.
None of my regular buddies are found.
I went in some chat rooms, but quickly got out.
Age, sex, location is all that's about.

As, I was about to go check out the net.
I got an E-mail, that I didn't expect.
A lady told me, she had read my profile.
And, ask, if I might like to chat for a while.

She said, if I didn't, then she would just leave.
But, she was so lonely, on this Christmas eve.
She said, it's the first time, she'd ever been on.
But, she heard, computers, could be so much fun.

She said, the computer, was usually locked tight.
But, she said, her husband, left it on....... tonight.
He's away on some business, He'll be gone all night.
So, she thought she'd use it, "I guess it's alright".

She started to tell me, about her whole life.
How, she was expected to be a good wife.
She talked of her anger, frustrations, and needs.
Because, she was forced, to do such silly deeds.

She talked on and on, from one thing to the next.
Then finally told me...she was oversexed.
She didn't have sex, with her husband, she told.
He's always too busy, and getting too old.

Then, she wrote me something, that made my heart vex.
She ask me to teach her, to have cyber-sex.
I said, if she wanted me to, that I could.
Then after an hour, she got really good.

After five hours, my fingers were sore.
I told her, that I couldn't go anymore.
She said, that was fine, because she was tired too.
And anyway, her husband, soon would be due.

She said she would be on, the same time next year.
Then ask, if I wouldn't mind, meeting her here.
She said, only.... on this night, she could be found.
It is only.... this night, her husband leaves town.

She said bye, and signed off...and I had to pause.
I think I just cybered...with Mrs Santa Claus !!!! 




A Computer Christmas Nightmare

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a peripheral was stirring, not even a mouse;
The modem was hung by the keyboard with care
In hopes that a download soon would be there.

The pirates were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of unprotects danced in their heads.
And the wife in her kerchief, and I in my cap
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When up on the hard drive there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the monitor I flew like a flash,
Sat down at the keyboard, gave the spacebar a mash.

The sight on the screen, a'flicker with snow
Gave the luster of power surge to the menu below.
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But an autoexec.bat that seemed rather queer.

With a little print driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment I had seen a new trick.
More rapid than eagles my curser it came;
My voice box whistled, and shouted, and called me by name.

"Now format, now rename, copy, and enter!
On num lock, on caps lock, on scroll lock, and printer.
To the top of the page, to the top of the doc,
Now tab it and bold it and merge it and block."

As utilities that build up the CPU speed
Clash with just the programs I need,
So up to the screen top the curser it flew
With a RAM full of memory and an extension board too.

And then, in a twinkling I heard on the speaker,
The grinding of the hard drive growing much weaker.
As I tried to reboot and turn it around,
The attributes changed from blue into brown.

I hit the control, the alt, and delete.
The message it gave me, I cannot repeat.
It asked me to Ignore, Retry, or Abort.
It told me the parallel had become the comm port.

Its lights how they twinkled; its pixels how merry.
Its prompts were all scrambled, like a bowl full of cherries.
It sounded just like it wanted to blow;
The screen was suddenly white as the snow.

It scrolled the directory before my eyes
With programs I didn't even recognize.
It wouldn't see D; it wouldn't see E.
I couldn't get out of B into C.

Norton's tried to read it; It finally found the FAT;
But alas!, the disk was faulty, and couldn't reformat.
Away flew the DBase; Away flew the DOSes;
Away flew the WordStar; Right out with the Windows.

The spreadsheets were spreading; The footers were heading;
What once had been memory Was close to forgetting.
When the grinding was over and the smoke had all cleared,
I looked at the unit, and it was just as I feared.

The 40 meg wonder had crashed in the night.
I'll never be able to block out that sight!
So tell everyone to avoid my plight;
Back up! Back up! Merry Christmas! Good Night! 




The Byte Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a user was using ...  not even a mouse;
The programs were hung from the bugs in their code,
In hopes that a guru would soon cure their woes;

The data were nestled all snug in their beds,
While versions of software danced in their heads;
The boss dimmed the lights as I locked up my desk,
A couple days off and a well-deserved rest;

Then all of a sudden there came such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the processor I flew like a flash,
What a terrible sound .. like a massive headcrash;

The lights they were blinking and beaming aglow,
The hardcopy printout said "Let service know!";
When what to my wandering eyes should appear,
On a silicon wafer ... a field engineer;

A little device driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Chip!
More rapid than Macro, his cursor insane,
He whistled and shouted like a video game.

Now, Pascal!  Now, Basic!, Now, Fortran and Cobol!
On RPG!  On PL/1, On Dibol and Snobol!
To the top of the registers, the bottom of core!
Run diagnostics and see what they store!

As memory leaves when electricity flies,
The 'Rep' cracked a smile and loosened his tie;
He was chubby and plump, said the place was a wreck,
And I laughed when I saw him (in spite of high tech).

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He was dressed from his head to his feet in a suit,
His briefcase was heavy with tools to re-boot.

With bundles of bits bulging out of his slacks,
He looked like a pro 'bout to fix a blown pack.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Reseated PC boards, then turned with a smirk;

Hit return with his finger and said "Here it goes,"
And giving a nod, into the CRT he dove.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere leaving the site,
"Restore the data, and all will be right!" 




Twas the Night Before Rollout

Twas the night before implementation and all through the house
Not a computer was working, not even a mouse.
The programmers hung by their ties in despair,
With hopes that a miracle soon would be there.

The customers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of progress danced in their heads.
When out of the CODE there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a super programmer (with a six pack of beer).
His resume glowed with experience so rare,
He turned out great code with a bit pusher's flair.

More rapid than eagles, his routines they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
On operator NEW! On operator DELETE!
On "for" loops! "do while"! On Functions Complete!

His eyes were glazed over, fingers nimble and lean,
From weekends and nights spent in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Turning specs into code, then turned with a jerk;
And laying his finger upon the "enter" key,
The system came up and worked perfectly.

The functions functioned; the deletes, they deleted;
The inquiries inquired and "for" loops completed.
He tested each whistle, and tested each bell,
With nary a rewrite, thus all had gone well.

The code was checked in, the tests were concluded,
Marketing's last changes were even included.
"Heh!", the customer exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for, but not what I want!" 




Twas The Byte Before Computing 
by Bert Happel 
    
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a circuit was working not even in my mouse;
The files were all loaded on the hard disc with care,
In hopes that the FAT would list them as there.

The backups were nestled all snug in their sleeves,
To keep the bytes from dropping off them like leaves;
And the disc drive was quiet, taking a rest
Just waiting to run the next boot-up test.

When out of the speaker there arose such a clatter
I sprang to my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the keyboard I flew like a flash,
Threw open the drive-door and heard a loud crash.

The lights on the breast of the new-fallen dust
gave a luster of mid-day to a CRT covered with crust.
Then what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and the eight data registers I fear.

With a little old driver, so lively and gloss
I knew in a moment he was a master of DOS.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled out and called them by name

"Now Binkley! Now Maximus! Now timEd and Squish!
On, Telix! On, X00! On, Bark and WaZoo!
To the top of the memory! To the top of the stack!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky,
So up on the screen the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of utilities, and DOS commands too.

As I drew back my head and was turning around,
Out the RS-232 port he came with a bound.
He was dressed all in ROM, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with bytes and some soot;

A bundle of data he had flung on his back,
And he looked like he had a program he wanted to crack.
His eyes -- How they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose was a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a round little belly
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
  
A flash of the CRT and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had lost programs to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the RAM; then turned, the big jerk,

And laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, in the RS-232 port he goes.
He sprang to the sleigh, his team they all whistled,
And away they all flew like they had sat on a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he faded out of sight,
"Bug-free programs to all and to all a good night!" 




The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, and I was getting soused,
Then upon the rooftop, there arose such a clatter,
I pissed my pants and thought, 'what dud it matter,'

Then down from the chimney, comes a gnarley old rotter,
red sock on 'es hed screamin', 'Can you make this fire any hotter?'
As we stood looking at each other with care,
it came to my attention, old St. Nick was standing there,

'Hey! You old FACKER!' I shouted with glee,
'Where's the can?' he replied, 'It's important I pee.'
Upon his return, he took a drink of my beer,
his face turned red, he coughed, then hacked in my chair

'Don't drink that rot,' he said with a twinkle,
reaching down in his bag, with a rustle and tinkle,
Then to my surprise, he did make appear,
a case of grade A cider, then left with my beer,

Pausing at the chimney, he turned full of cheer,
'Merry Christmas,' he said, 'Drink cider, not beer'
Then up the chimney, he went like a monkey ablaze,
or maybe he was on fire, my mind still a haze,

These final words I heard, as I sipped my cider right,
'Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night' 




The Night Before Christmas
by Robert McBlair

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat,
Not a creature was sober, not even the cat.
The glasses were placed on the mantel with care,
In hopes that our Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were dining at Tony's and Fred's,
Where speakeasy vintages danced through their heads.
And Mama with her whiskey, and I with my gin,
Had just settled down for an evening of sin.

When out in the lane there arose such a clatter
I swallowed an olive - now what was the matter?
A gulp to the window I fell like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

A light on the crest of the new-fallen sleet
Gave a luster of mid-day to things on the street;
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a truck loaded down  with a mountain of beer,

And a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be out Nick!
More rapid than eagles his helpers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name,

"Now Lefty! Now Louie! Now, Alky and Witzen!
On, Conky! On, Chowder! On, Harry and Blitzen!
To the top of the house - Ring the bells in the hall!
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the top-floor the helpers they flew
With a lift full of treasure - and Nicholas too.

And then in the twinkling I heard on the flags
The prancing and pawing of bottles in bags.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
In the doorway our Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed like a Mayor from his head to his feet,
And his tie was all spangled with diamonds and sleet;
A bag full of beer he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His rings, how they twinkled! His sniffle, how merry!
His hands were like roses, his eye like a cherry;
A scar drew his mouth to one side like a bow,
And the foam on his chin was as white as the snow.

The gold of the dentist was bright in his teeth,
And a derby encircled his head like a wreath.
He laid down his burden to draw forth a sample,
And snapped off the cap with a thumb that was ample.

He was cheerful and prompt - An expensive young begger
And we laughed when we saw him - Our Christmas Bootlegger!
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the glasses; Then turned with a jerk,
And, laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, "Down the hatch! Here she goes!"

He sprang to the door, to his men gave a whistle,
And away they all went like the down of a thistle;
But I heard him exclaim 'Ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to All, and to All a good night!" 




'Twas the Night Before Christmas
 
Twas the night before Christmas and I was partially alert
my perimeter was secure with trips set in the dirt
Shadows were playing games images appeared in my brain
The trees were making noises things I could not explain

From out in the front it was the giant oak tree
The trunk began to open it totally surprised me
Not seeing one before I had to beware
Because out of this commo-closet came this big black bear!

As it crept through the woods down on his knees
An F-14 fighter flew over marking the trees
The night lit up as if it was day
The bear screamed "I am Phildo" you must pay, you must pay

Leaflets were falling like snow from the sky
Pages of cannon fodder you must buy, you must buy
I jumped to my feet and got ready to split
To find out that it was Phildo that piece of shit. 




'Twas the Night Before Christmas
 
'Twas the night of Friday and all through the town
no pigs were stirring no narcs were around
The joints were all rolled and stuffed into sacks
in dreams we'd get wasted to the highest climax

When suddenly at the door we heard three knocks
we all looked at each other and said "oh fuck its the cops"
We opened the door and to red eyes appeared
a pound of Colombian and a keg of beer

The man standing next to it wore only a smile
so we invited him in to party awhile
He spoke not a word but proceeded to stroll
he opened a beer and lit up a bowl

and as we all jammed to the Greatful Dead
rings of incense encircled our heads
and as he left and bid us good night
he said "marijuana to all, and to all a good high" 




The 'Net before Christmas 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat
Not a creature was stirring, not even Lab Rat;
Newsreaders were pointed at abnt
In hopes that new scans were there for all to see;

The Wombles were huddled in front of their 'puters,
With visions of pretty girls showing their hooters;
JennyS in her teddy, and I in my shorts,
Had just settled down for some, uh... winter sports,

When out on the Zip drive there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the office I flew like a flash,
Popped open the Zip to see if it was trashed.

But the lovely young girl that appeared on my screen
Gave a lust to my loins such that I'd never seen,
What, out of the corner of my eye did I spy,
But a jovial fellow who seemed pretty spry,

With his bundle of fresh scans, all quite nospamish,
I knew in a moment it could only be Hamish!
As rapid as eagles, more scanners they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Patton! now, Lancelot! now, biGrrl and Ziggy!
On, Rommel! on cityBoy!"  (The scene was quite giddy!)
"With Neutrino on board, there won't be any lags!
Now dash away! Hurry! Start scanning those mags!"

As Hamish distributed mags to his pals,
They got down to business, these guys and these gals,
So off to their flatbeds the scanners they flew,
With their arms full of pictures, that includes Hamish too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door
The knocking that signaled that there were still more.
As I rose from my monitor, turning around,
Who should come through the door but Xanlithe, with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of magazines flung on his back,
He looked better stocked than a London newsrack!.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His demeanor quite merry!
His cheeks were all flushed, like he'd just popped a cherry!
His droll sense of humor let all of us know,
He'd be scanning like crazy, before the first snow;

The scanning went forward, not missing a beat,
With the used pictures building up piles by their feet;
Old Thumper just marvelled and patted his belly,
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.

Being chubby and plump, a right jolly old bunny,
I was taken aback when Womble looked at me funny;
But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

Xanlithe spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And scanned all his pictures; then turned with a jerk,
After loading the hard drive with the pictures he chose,
He showed us a few, and our peckers all rose;

Hamish sprang to his car, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, speeding off in his 'Vette,
"Happy wanking to all, and to all a good 'net!" 




Ole Saint Nark
by John Rock

Twas the night before Christmas and all thru the pad,
there was nothing much happ'nin, a real bummer, Dad.
Our Hookas were hung by the fireside with care,
and a thick pungent smoke was filling the air!

Now Ma in her headset had just popped a Cap
was laid up in bed and started to rap...
The children were loaded on benzine and reds
and visions of acid-cubes bounced in their heads...

From out on the lawn we heard such a crash;
pulled open the window and threw out the stash!
Then POW! in an instant I heard it again...
We thought maybe someone had called in the "MAN"!

A small hasshish pipe was jammed 'tween his teeth
and the smoke, it encircled his 'fro like a wreath...
He kicked down the door, screaming "Freeze! It's a Bust"!
and the ole lady said, WOW, whothehell can you trust?!

His threads were all tarnished from ashes and smoke,
but he rolled up a number and offered us a toke...
He was pale and anemic, if not underfed,
and his eyes were like pinwheels that spun in his head!

What a bundle of junk he had flung on his back
He looked like a pusher when he opened his pack...
We offered some acid, but his answer was "NO!",
We could see he was skinny from doin' the SNOW!

Then he laid out his presents down next to the tree,
A KILO of Gold and Sheets of LSD!
Some uppers for Ma and some mushrooms for ME!
He was surely Saint Nark, we had to agree...!

"Sorry I'm late, but boy am I beat!"
I'm exhausted from dodging the bad FULL TIME Heat!
I was High over Reno, way up in the Blue...
When they started to tail me in a friggin B-52!

It was aerial combat with a big flying Pig!...
but I made it to 'Frisco to finish my gig....
Then, laying a finger aside his red nose,
he sniffed six rails of coke and a cap of No-Dose!

He ran to his craft, not a reindeer and sleigh,
but a giant balloon...and we heard  him exclaim,
as he flew in the night..."STAY STONED 'till next year...
and you're all OUTASIGHT!" 




'Twas A Pervert's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and in our bedroom
Lie a newlywed bride and a newlywed groom
The clothes were all lying down on the floor,
Except for the diapers we'd put on before.

We lie there kissing and cuddling in bed;
Our minds were on each other with lust in our heads.
And her in her diapers sitting on top my lap
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When from the other room there arose such a clatter
I arose, waking my bride; She said, "What's the matter?"
I ran down the stairs and what did I see?
A jolly young elf dressed just like me.

She stood there naked except for her diaper
As she pulled presents from her bag she switched into hyper.

Her eyes how they twinkled, her smile was so merry
Her titties, they shook like two bowls full of jelly.
My wife had now joined me and the elf turned and blinked
As she sat down two pacifiers one blue and one pink.

The elf then walked and stood in the chimney
And winked at my wife then in turn winked at me.
She slid her hands up her front and her back
And rubbing her cunt she flew up the stack.

We rushed to the window to see her away
And off the roof she flew to get on her way.
And from her big crib that flew through the sky
She yelled "Have a merry Christmas and keep those diapers dry!" 




REAL SANTA
by Terry Gray and Larry Gable

'Twas the night before Christmas when Santa got ready
He'd drink his first shot to make his hands steady
He'd load up his sleigh with toys and good cheer,
not forgetting his ice chest with a 12 pack of beer

He was a jolly old elf and worked with a grin,
but remembered the brats then gulped his slo-gin
In a drunken stupor down the chimney he'd fall,
then when he was done... to his reindeer he'd call...

"Hey Falstaff, hey Miller, hey Coors" he would shout,
"Throw me a rope so I can get out!"
He flew all night long not a house was excluded
leaving toys and a note "Batteries NOT included"

He looked in his sack and said, "I'm just about done",
but then he was sleigh-jacked by a kid with a gun
So now Christmas is over 
and Santa is sober...

But you could hear his exclaim as he walked out of sight
"Hand me a Heineken and give me a light!" 




'Twas the Night After Christmas
                                      
'Twas the night after Christmas, and boy, what a house!
I felt like the devil, and so did my spouse. 
The eggnog and turkey and candy were swell,
But ten hours later they sure gave me hell.
                                      
The stockings weren't hung by the chimney with care.
The darn things were sprawled on the back of a chair.
The children were nestled all snug in their bed,
And I had a large cake of ice on my head.
                                      
When at long last I dozed off in a nap,
The ice woke me up as it fell in my lap.
For some unknown reason I wanted a drink,
So I started in feeling my way to the sink.
                                      
I got along fine 'til I stepped on the cat.
I cannot recall what occurred after that.
When I came to, the house was all flooded with light,
Although under the table I was high as a kite.

While visions of sugar plums danced in my head,
I somehow got up and climbed back into bed.
Then what to my wandering mind should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

Then the sleigh seemed to change to a mammoth fire truck,
And each reindeer turned into a bleary-eyed buck.
I knew in a moment it must be old Nick.
I tried to cry out, but my tongue was too thick.

The old devil whistled and shouted with glee,
While each buck pawed the earth and looked daggers at me.
Then he called them by name and the names made me shudder.
When I heard them I felt like a ship minus rudder.

"Now Eggnog! Bacardi! Four Roes! and Brandy!
Now Fruit Cake! Cold Turkey! Gin Rickey! and Candy!
To the top of his house, to the top of his skull,
Now whack away, crack it with thumps that are dull!"

And then in a twinkling I felt on my roof
The prancing and pawing of each cloven hoof.
How long this went on I am sure I can't say,
Though it seemed an eternity plus a long day.

But finally the night after Christmas had passed,
And I found that I really could think straight at last.
So I thought of the New Year and few days away,
And I made me a vow that no tempter can sway.

I'm sticking to water, don't even want ice,
For there's nothing so tasty, or nothing so nice.
The night after New Year may bother some guys,
But I've learned my lesson, and brother, I'm wise.

You can have your rich food, and your liquor that's red,
But what goes to my stomach won't go to my head.
So here's "Happy New Year" to you one and all.
I'm back on the wagon. I hope I don't fall. 




Twas a Divorce's Night Before Christmas
by Alex Anderson
                                  
'Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the trailer,
Not a creature was stirring, not even an old sailor.
The stockings were dirty and thrown in a heap,
And I hoped that some woman would arrive soon and be cheap.

My three boys had wrestled and slugged me in the head,
While visions of being grounded made them start to see red.
My mamma in her 'kerchief, and my dad, with his bad back,
Had just settled down for a light winter's snack.

When out on the doorstep, I heard my ex-wife's patter,
And I sprang from my recliner, to see if she'd gotten even fatter.
Away to the front window, I flew, breaking out in a rash,
Tore open the door, and she said, "I need a lot more cash!"

The moon's glow on the hood of her new Cadillac,
Made me wish she and I had never jumped in the sack. 
When, what to my furious eyes should appear,
But a sleazy, bald guy holding a big bottle of beer.

With a little sly smile, and the face of a hick,
I knew in a moment it must be her new boyfriend, Rick!
More rapid than eagles his burps they sure came,
And I was sickened, and disgusted, as I said the man's name.

"Now, wait! Now, whoa! Now, Flo! Now, think!
"I can't give you more money, so don't put up a stink!
To ask for more money, you've really got gall!
Now, go away! Go away! Go away, y'all!"

As dry heaves that before severe nausea come,
When they fill up your insides and make you feel numb,
So, into my trailer, Flo and Rick zoomed,
And with a sense of foreboding, I knew I was doomed.

And then, in an instant, I saw the two of them kiss,
And I felt like a hit-man, who didn't want to miss.
As I stifled a cuss-word, and adjusted my underwear,
Flo parked her big butt in my mom's favorite blue chair. 

She began to speak, while Rick kept guzzling his beer,
And I felt like a prisoner, whose death sentence was near.
A big hunk of fat, was hanging from Flo's gut,
And, I wondered how Rick could stand looking at such a slut.

Flo's eyes--how they squinted; pig-like without a doubt,
Her cheeks looked like elephant skin, her nose like a snout.
Her gigantic, red mouth opened up like a shark,
And her jagged teeth were ugly, as yellow as peed-on tree bark. 

The butt of a cigarette she held tight in her lips,
And the smoke circled 'round her massive, hippopotamus hips.
Flo had a pudgy face and enormous rolls of blubber.
That flopped when she moved, and bounced like chunks of rubber.

She was overweight and smelly, a terribly gross ex-wife,
And I felt sick to my stomach, as I wished for the next life.
A wink of Flo's eye and a smile on her face,
Soon gave me to know, I wanted to be in a different place.

Flo spoke a few words, about needing more money,
And again I said, "No, way! You've already taken it all, honey!"
She got up to leave, dragging Rick by his collar,
And she gave me a wet kiss, before I could holler.

Flo waddled outside and jumped in her car,
And she and her man headed for the nearest bar.
But I heard Flo exclaim, as she drove off with the geek,
"If you don't give me more money, I'll bring over my mother next week!" 




'Twas The Night Before New Years 

'Twas the night before New Years, and all through the place
Not a mirror was empty, not even a space.
The coke-spoons were hung from our neck chains with care,
In hopes that the "Snowman" soon would be there.

Our brains were all nuzzled, all snug in the skies,
While wild hallucinations dances through our eyes.
I guzzled some Jack Daniels and Ma' took a sip
As we readied our brains for a long acid trip

When down in my stomach there arose such a clatter
I had felt it before and I knew what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a winner
Tore open the shutters and threw up my dinner.

I heard a faint splash on the objects below 
As I turned for a cure of some new fallen snow.
When what to my bloodshot eyes should appear
But white haired old man with eight lines on a mirror

When I saw parked outside was a customized van
I knew in a moment it must be "Snowman".
More rapid then Hoover, His nostrils aflame,
He snorted and shouted and called them by name.

Now Trasher, Now Blaster Now Trance'r and Tricks'in
Haily's comet and Stoopid on Blizzard and Blitzen.
At the top of the last one his brain seemed to stall
Then blast away, blast away blast away all.

And the leaves that he smoked in a joint were so dry,
When they met with his brain cells, he started to fly.
So up to the house-top the smoking joint flew,
With a Van full of Snoflakes, and The "Snowman" too.

And then, in a twinkling, he was up on the roof
and he dove toward the chimney, and shrunk with a "POOF"
As I drew in my head and was turning around
Down the chimney the Snowman came with a bound

He was dressed all in white from his hat to his boot
And his clothes were all covered with hashes and toot
A bundle of coke he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a dealer just peddling his crack. 

His eyes how they glissened, he had dust on his thumb
His teeth, how they chattered, his nose was real numb
He had drool on his mouth, and a dusting of blow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as his snow.

A stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a thin face and a big wad of cash,
That smelled quite a bit like a bowlful of Hash. 

He was skinny and frail, but a jolly old dude,
And I laughed when I saw him, with a new attitude;
he had bloodshot eyes, you could hear Greatful Dead
comming out of the headphones he had on his head,

He spoke not a word but went right to his work
And he filled all the coke viles and he turned with a jerk
And laying a finger aside of his nose 
And giving a SNORT up the chimney he rose

He jumped in his van and he gave it a start
And away he flew like a jet propelled dart
Ere I heard him exclaim as he started to fly
"Many kilos to all and to all a good high."  




The Night Before christmas, Legally Speaking 

Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, 
there did occur at a certain improved piece of real 
estate property (hereinafter "the House") a general 
lack of stirring by all creatures therein, including, 
but not limited to a mouse.

A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc., 
had been affixed by and around the chimney in said 
House in the hope and/or belief that St. Nick a/k/a/ 
St. Nicholas a/k/a/ Santa Claus (hereinafter "Claus") 
would arrive at sometime thereafter.

The minor residents, i.e. the children, of the 
aforementioned House were located in their individual
beds and were engaged in nocturnal hallucinations, 
i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery treats,
including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or 
sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear 
in said dreams.

Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes 
hereinafter referred to as "I"), being the joint-owner 
in fee simple of the House with the parts of the second 
part (hereinafter "Mamma"), and said Mamma had retired 
for a sustained period of sleep. (At such time, the 
parties were clad in various forms of headgear, e.g.  
kerchief and cap.)

Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there 
did occur upon the unimproved real property adjacent 
and appurtenant to said House, i.e. the lawn, a 
certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or 
circumstance. The party of the first part did 
immediately rush to a window in the House to 
investigate the cause of such disturbance.

At that time, the party of the first part did observe, 
with some degree of wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature 
sleigh (hereinafter "the Vehicle") being pulled and/or 
drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately
eight (8) reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle appeared 
to be and in fact was, the previously referenced Claus.

Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction 
and guidance to the approximately eight (8) reindeer and 
specifically identified the animal co-conspirators by name: 
Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and 
Blitzen (hereinafter "the Deer"). (Upon information and 
belief, it is further asserted that an additional 
co-conspirator named "Rudolph" may have been involved.)

The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle
and the Deer intentionally and wilfully trespass upon the
roofs of several residences located adjacent to and in 
the vicinity of the House, and noted that the Vehicle was 
heavily laden with packages, toys and other items of unknown
origin or nature. Suddenly, without prior invitation or 
permission, either express or implied, the Vehicle arrived 
at the House, and Claus entered said House via the chimney.

Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially 
covered with residue from the chimney, and he carried a 
large sack containing a portion of the aforementioned 
packages, toys, and other unknown items. He was smoking 
what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant 
violation of local ordinances and health regulations.

Claus did not speak, but immediately began to fill the 
stocking of the minor children, which hung adjacent to 
the chimney, with toys and other small gifts. (Said 
items did not, however, constitute "gifts" to said minor
pursuant to the applicable provisions of the U.S. Tax Code.)

Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of 
his nose and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney 
of the House to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited
and/or served as "lookouts." Claus immediately departed 
for an unknown destination. However, prior to the departure 
of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said House, the party 
of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim:
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!" 
Or words to that effect. 




 An 'AA'  Night Before Christmas

"Twas the night before Christmas when all through the hall
Not a member was stirring, nor sought alcohol.
Coffee and cookies were set out with care;
More AA members soon would be there.
Each grateful member with no trace of vanity,
Gave thanks to the Power that restores us to sanity.

The leader of the meeting, like all who have missions,
Assigned Chapter Five and the Twelve Traditions.
When outside the hall there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our chairs to see what was the matter.
In parking a car some bumpers were hit,
The man who was wrong did promptly admit.

And so to our grateful eyes did appear
Our famous guest speaker, loved far and near.
More rapid than eagles the member then came;
He hugged them and kissed them and called them by name:
Hi, Alice; 'lo, Jimmy; God love you, Harry...
Betty and Carol and Birthday boy Larry!

Again we all settled, ready to share;
The leader of the meeting led the Serenity Prayer.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky.
So up to sobriety the members they flew,
With Twelve Steps to follow, Twelve Traditions, too.

The Seventh Tradition inevitably came.
The leader then called on our speaker by name.
He wore his red suit, a fur cap and no tie,
But soon let us know with a wink of his eye,
That Christmas for us, we must learn to think
Means staying away from the very first drink.

A bundle of joys he told us we'd find,
"Read the Big Book for true peace of mind."
At the end of the meeting he led the Prayer
and gave us the word: "Continue to share."
But I heard him exclaim as he picked up his pack,
"Don't ever forget to Keep Coming Back!" 




Assembly Required The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house
I searched for the tools to hand to my spouse.
Instructions were studied and we were inspired,
in hopes we could manage "Some Assembly Required."

The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds, 
while Dad and I faced the evening with dread:
a kitchen, two bikes, Barbie's town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!

We opened the boxes, my heart skipped a beat....
let no parts be missing or parts incomplete!
Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
if we can't get it right, it goes in the basement!

When what to my worrying eyes should appear,
but 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear,
with each part numbered and every slot named,
so if we failed, only we could be blamed.

More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
all over the carpet they were scattered about.
"Now bolt it!  Now twist it!  Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!

Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand."
"Honey," said hubby, "you just glued my hand."
And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
that all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact

To keep parents busy all Christmas Eve night
with "assembly required" till morning's first light.
We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
till our eyes, they went bleary; our fingers all hurt.

The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
before we attached the last rod and last pin.
Then laying the tools away in the chest,
we fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.

But I said to my husband just before I passed out,
"This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.
Tomorrow we'll cheer, let the holiday ring,
and not have to run to the store for a thing!

We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
for the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!"
Then off to dreamland and sweet repose I gratefully went,
 though I suppose there's something to say for those self-deluded.....
I'd forgotten that BATTERIES are never included! 




'Twas the night before Christmas at the Airport

'Twas the night before Christmas all over the place,
When we were confronted by an old flying ace.
There was icing reported and turbulent air,
He said "File me a flight plan, I gotta get there."
  Outside sat his aircraft all ready to run,
And the old man walked out to that P-51.
"bad weather's no problem," he silently mumbled,
The prop came to life. . . that big Allison rumbled.
  He eased in the throttle, the roar shook the ground,
He taxied on out and he turned it around.
He  went through the run-up and seemed satisfied,
Then he said to himself, "I'm in for a ride."
  So he lined it up straight as he poured on the coal,
The tailwheel came up as he started to roll.
Up off the runway, he sucked up the gear,
And that mighty V-12 was all you could hear.
  He screamed overhead with a deafening crack,
The blue flames were flying from each shiny stack.
He pulled up the nose and started to climb,
No ice on that airframe, it didn't have time.
  On top of the weather with the levers all set,
He looked up above him and saw a Lear jet.
With jet fuel and turbines there just ain't no class,
Gimmee pistons, and props and lots of avgas!
  Now he was approaching where he wanted to go,
But weather had covered the runway with snow.
How will he land it?  We just have to guess,
Because the only way in was a full I-L-S.
  Then over the marker, he started his run,
The ceiling was zero, visibility. . . none.
Still going three hundred and he felt the need,
For an overhead break to diminish his speed.
  Over the numbers he zoomed, along like a flash,
Pulled into his break, we just knew he would crash.
Oh, why do they do it on these kindof nights??
Then over the threshold, we saw landing lights.
  "I'm on a short final with three in the green,
And I see enough runway to land this machine."
Then he tied down that Mustang, and they all hear him say. . .
"Next year, I'm stickin' with my reindeer and sleigh." 



  
One Crazy Cool Yule

"Twas the Night before Christmas" has lots of nice rhymes
But I fear that the tale doesnt fit modern times.
What is a kerchief? My dad wears no cap.
He snores the whole night, no way its a nap.

They tell me that Santa is coming tonight.
Hell be flying in here on a sleigh. Yeah,  RIGHT!
When I was much younger I believed all that stuff,
Now that Im older I know its a bluff.

As this Christmas eve is going so slow
I sneak down the stairs to watch HBO.
Nothing is stirring, its quiet down here.
Securitys on so theres nothing to fear.

All of a sudden I hear the floor squeak
Someone is coming, sneakety, sneak.
And then as my heart leaps up to my throat
I see a fat man in a funny red coat.

He stands by the table and looks through the house
And takes from his pocket a tiny gray mouse.
He says, "Ho, Ho Ho, I truly believe,
There must be a mouse in each Christmas eve."

His belt buckle shakes as he laughs, look at that.
My gosh this jolly old guy sure is fat.
He looks up. He sees me and gives a big smile.
Says, "I came to see you. Lets talk for a while.

"Youre one grown up child that doesnt believe
That Santa Claus comes on each Christmas eve.
Youre a big girl. Your minds filled with doubt.
Its simple, without me the joy is left out.

"I remember the time you sat on my knee
A smile on your face, eyes sparkling with glee.
Dont you remember the thrill you felt then?
With a little belief you can feel it again.

"Santa Claus comes for each child at the start.
The rest of their lives I live in their heart.
If you are a youngster or wrinkled old guy
You still can hear sleigh bells ring cross the sky."

He turns as he says,  "Will you please come out here?"
And there on the driveway stand eight cool reindeer.
They all nod to me and then snort in chorus,
"Whos this pretty girl now standing before us?"

I wave as I tell them, "Im Anna May."
As the big burley guy crawls into his sleigh.
He says, "Its my new team, a real with-it crew.
Ill let Captain Cosmos give their names to you."

"Heres E-mail and Hat Rack, Cool Dude and Charley,
Im Cosmos, theres Awesome, Brucie and Narley.
Head Cat is Santa, the North Poles his home,
We see him all year cause we hang out in Nome."

Then they take off and fly to the roof
Tap a short rap and give a "high hoof."
All turn and shout, "Tonight reindeers rule.
The eight of us wish you a crazy cool Yule."

Then Santa shouts, "Its true some things change.
But believe in the basics." As he speeds out of range.
Then I hear repeated, as my willing ears strain,
The words I now love, my favorite refrain.

"Twas the Night before Christmas" has some things outdated
But The Story, dear folks, is not overrated.
Throw open the window, and rejoice in the sight!
"Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night."



 
The Set Before Christmas
or A Visit from DJ Nicholas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and the party was phat,
All the groovers were jumping, no one was on crack;
The bassbins were blasting the fresh funky sounds,
In hopes DJ Nicholas soon would be 'round;

The tunes filled the warehouse with positive vibes,
While visions of glowsticks danced in our eyes;
My friends with their tablets, and I with a cap,
Had just settled down, way too couched to chat,

When beneath the black lights there arose such a beat,
I sprang from the rave sludge and onto my feet.
Away to the speakers to hear better the grooves,
Whipped out my earplugs and busted some moves.

The Technics had a plate on the slipmat so dope,
It rotated at +8 and filled me with hope,
When, what to my shade-wearing eyes should I see,
A DJ dropping tracks with squealing 303.

With a cut and a backspin, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it was DJ Nick.
More rapid than heartbeats his white labels came,
The kids whistled, and shouted, and all went insane;

"Now, JUNGLE! now, GOA!  HOUSE and FUNKY BREAKS!
He gets the crowd pumping whatever it takes!
If the music's da shit then he'll play 'em all!
He keeps the floor shaking, we dance 'till we fall!"

Spotters gathered 'round to check his mad skills,
But ol' Nick has a sound that tickles and thrills,
Soon they couldn't help dancing to beats going down,
Faces plastered with grins, not the usual frowns.

And then, through the dry-ice, I heard a loud thump,
Nicholas was snoozing, his body a lump,
"Wake up, DJ Nick!," was the entire crowd's plea,
Nick's drink had been spiked with heavy GHB.

In his red and white tracksuit he so soundly slept,
The grumpy old ravers laughed and called him inept;
But his nose worked the faders, and he snored to the beat,
Ever the pro, Nick could mix in his sleep.

His eyelids -- they twitched! He was finally awake!
His pupils dilated as he dropped the next break!
This DJ, with goatee as bleached white as snow,
Had the crowd blown away with his kickin'-ass show;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And he filled up the bowl with prime bud, shake and leaf.
Then just as he'd gotten 3 tables to lock,
A low voice shook the room, "This party must stop!"

He was chubby and plump, a right scary old cop,
And it seemed that the evening might end with a flop;
But ol' Nick knew the score, he went over to talk,
And gave me to know I'd no reason to sulk;

Nick reached in his pocket and then with a flash,
Brought out his wallet and a big wad of cash.
The cop gave it back, said "If it's all the same,
I'd rather go off to Hawtin or Richard D. James"

He sprang to his decks, spun the requested tracks,
And when he was finished, disappeared with his wax.
But I heard him exclaim, as he hopped in his jet,
"PLURRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD SET!"



  
Twas the Department Store Before Christmas
by Frank Jacobs (Mad Magazine, Jan 1969)
 
'Twas the month before Christmas, and all through the store,
Each department was dripping with Yuletide decor.
The Muzak was blaring an out-of-tune carol,
And the fake snow was falling on "Ladies' Apparel."

I'd flown many miles from the North Pole this day,
To check on reports which had caused me dismay.
I'd come to this store for but one special reason,
To see for myself what went on this Season.

I hid in a corner and in a short while
He shouted an order to "Turn the store tree on!"
And also the "NOEL" in blinking pink neon.

Up high, grandly hanging from twin gold supports,
Four hundred pink angels flew over "Men's Shorts."
And towering over the Rear Mezzanine,
A 90-foot Day Glo "Nativity Scene."

The clock on the wall said two minutes to Nine,
The floorwalkers proudly all stood in line.
I watched while the President smelled their carnations,
Then called out his final command-"Man Your Stations!"
                                      
When out on the street there arose such a roar,
It rang to the rafters and boomed through the store.
It sounded exactly like street-repair drilling,
Or maybe another big Mafia killing.
                                      
I looked to the doors, and there banging glass,
Was a clamoring, shrieking, hystericalmass.
And I felt from the tone of each scream and each curse,
That the "Spirit Of Christmas" had changed for the worse.
                                     
The clock it struck Nine, and the door opened wide,
And that great human avalanche thundered inside.
More fearsome than Sherman attacking Atlanta
Came parents and kiddies with just one goal-"Santa!"
                                      
In front stormed the mothers, all brandishing handbags,
As heavy and deadly as 20 pound sandbags.
With gusto they swung them, the better to smash ears,
Of innocent floorwalkers, buyers, and cashiers.
                                      
Egged on by their parents, the kids had one aim,
To get to the man who was using my name.
They mobbed him and mauled him, the better to plead,
For the presents they sought in their hour of greed.

The President watched with a gleam in his eye,
As he thought of the toys that the parents would buy.
Of all Christmas come-ons, this crowd would attest,
That a visit to "Santa" was clearly the best.
                                      
It was all too much for my soul to condone,
And I let out a most unprofessional moan.
The crowd turned around, and I'll say for their sake,
That they knew in an instant I wasn't fake.
                                      
"I've had it," I told them, "with fast-buck promoting,
With gimmicks and come-ons and businessmen gloating.
This garish display of commercialized greed,
Is so very UN-Christmas, it makes my heart bleed!"



  
Bah Humbug Christmas

T'was the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks
I have good mind to scrap the whole works

I've busted my ass for damn near a year
Instead of "Thanks Santa" - what do I hear
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night
The elves want more money - The reindeer all fight

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter

They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa some money
And the kids these days - they all are the pits
They want the impossible ...Those mean little shits

I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's - No request for them
They want computers and robots...I'm not IBM!

If you think that's bad...just picture this
Try holding those brats...with their pants full of piss
They pull on my nose - they grab at my beard
And if I don't smile...parents think I'm weird

Flying through the air...dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job...there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment

There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason
I found me a blonde...and going SOUTH for the season!!



  
'Twas the Fight Before Christmas
by Mary C. Ginn 

'Twas the fight before Christmas when all through the house
the tension was rising 'tween in-laws and spouse.
Expecting the onslaught, she'd shopped, wrapped, and baked,
Mom verged on exhaustion, her back cramped and ached.

"This year will be perfect!" determined she vowed
Then she lined up her brood, and she ordered aloud,
"Now, listen up, kids! Clean your ears, so you'll hear it!
You'll stop all your whining and get into the spirit!"
 
Their kinfolk were traveling from locales afar,
to watch little Jen as she held up the Star,
Jeremiah as drummer, and Jimmy as goat,
and the rest of the rugrats playing Heavenly Host.

The pastor who cast them, though 'twas said he was braver
didn't trust Baby Paul to portray the sweet Savior.
Now the eve of the holiday pageant had come.
The mock angels fluttered, the wee drummer drummed,
And drummed and he drummed until Mom thought she'd throttle
that dear little drummer or go drown in a bottle.

Their haloes cocksure, they were ready to go.
Aunt Tessie glanced out, "Oooo, it's starting to snow!"
So back to the closet for twenty-two boots,
while Gramps sneaked to the sideboard for a couple of snoots.
Dad paced with impatience, beating tracks on the floor.
Julie rushed from the house, clipped one wing in the door.

Momma, on round-up, was prodding the herd.
Julie wailed with dismay, "I WILL LOOK LIKE A NERD!"
Loading four vans full, they skidded to church,
side-swiping two carolers, came to rest with a lurch,
and disgorged the uncles, the cousins and aunties,
the angels and livestock, three Wisemen, and Granny.
 
When all were assembled they commanded three pews.
Freckled shepherds processed and proclaimed the Good News.
Momma leaned on Dad's shoulder, her stamina tested;
on the other, the video camera was rested.
Training its lens on his offspring with pride,
disgruntled he found there was no tape inside.
 
He cursed much too loud for his present location.
His pious Aunt Phoebe prayed for his salvation.
Granny sighed disappointment, "Tsk, tsk, what a shame."
Momma glared at her husband, volleyed bullets of blame.
 
Dad was soundly upbraided by a clan 'twas adjacent
Poor pastor feared rightly that brouha' was nascent.
The man behind bellowed, "Sit down in the front."
Dad howled, "Go to blazes, you overgrown punk."
 
How the threats escalated, I haven't a hunch.
And no one remembers who threw the first punch.
But the fray that ensued was a Mother of All
right up to the altar, 'round the heavenly stall.
 
Fur and feathers were flying, taunts rang through the air.
There was gnashing of teeth and the pulling of hair.
The peace of nativity wrenched by the roar,
the manger upsot, dolly rolled 'cross the floor.
The choir tried vainly to scream out the lines,
of the old-fashioned favorite, 'The Tie That Binds.'
 
Soon the kids took their cue from their fathers and mothers,
And the air became littered with the straw and the fodder.
Young oxen were kicking, little donkeys were braying,
the shepherds' rods snapped and poor pastor was praying.
 
Once innocent angels from heaven were falling,
and even wee Drummer was biting and brawling.
The candlesticks tottered, the altar was battered,
the tree lying prone, pastor's vestments were tattered.
 
Then sweet, one-winged Julie, fearing huge conflagration,
was sparked by the blaze of Divine inspiration.
She gathered up all of the cherubs, I'm told,
and began tearing one wing from each little shoulder.
 
When the dust finally settled, only one light remained,
A lone Christmas candle whose heavenly flame
bathed the children in gold, with arms 'round each other,
turning angels with black eyes to sisters and brothers.
Their timorous voices sang out, 'Silent Night,'
overpowering the fracas and ending the fight.
 
So this story of angels with singleton wings,
who like the blest infant, humbled powerful kings,
taught a lesson of love to the grown-ups that night:
Only Bearing Each Other Up, Can We Take Flight.
 
And the pastor blessed all, waved them home with relief,
"Merry Christmas. Go Home. And May God Grant You Peace!"



  
Twas the Mall Before Christmas

Twas the day before Christmas and all the stores were quite hoppin'
They waited until the last minute to finish their gift shoppin'
There was pushing and shoving and grabbing for things
From sweaters and dishes to big diamond rings

The crowds were just buying all the stuff at the mall
They just had to buy presents they had to have them all
I kept walking and looking at the stuff on display
I couldn't wait any longer for today was the last day

As I went by the window a gift caught my eye
I knew exactly what to get and it was time for me to buy
As I went for the present a lady did speak
"I saw it first. I saw it last week!"

I was angry and upset as I began to glare
At this mean old lady with silver white hair
I shouted and yelled and called her some names:
"You bastard, you whore, you mean little bitch"
"You're ugly and nasty, you old little witch"

She ran to the counter and complained quite a bit
"He's crazy, he's mad and he just threw a fit"
Mall security came running as I stood there and thought
Look at all these gift I could have just bought

I was led out the store and not a person did stop
They kept looking for presents and continued to shop
I wasn't allowed back or even peek through the glass
I hate Christmas shopping it's a pain in the ass

I knew this would happen I knew it would suck
As I walked out the door and went back to my truck
So this I will tell you and listen quite well
Waiting until the last minute will put you through Hell

Do your shopping early start sometime in September
And this short little story you should surely remember
Do something different next year around fall
Don't wait until the last minute to buy your gifts at the mall.



  
'Twas Hallowe'en!

'Twas Halloween night as I leaped from my bed,
With thoughts of amusement going through my head.
Turned off my computer and thought as I may
Of vampires of old and vampires of today.

Of spooky old movies and Halloween parties,
Of course trick or treating. (hope they don't hand out Smarties)
And witches and ghosts and gravediggers, I fear,
So that old haunted house, I will never go near.

When you see spooky places, just take my advice,
And don't go in rooms filled with ghosts, bats, and mice.
So don't risk your life going looking for spooks,
Just go to a party with some good friendly kooks.

Or gather your family, carve a pumpkin and think
What to have your kids do, and go pick up a drink.
Tell a joke to your friends, but be careful, you'll see
That a couple wrong moves might mean eternity.

Now put on that costume and dress yourself up.
You can be Ninja Nun or that RCA Pup.
But be very careful or else you might see
That ghosts and vampires aren't really PC.

So now you can think, as you turn out that light
That there's no such thing and that you are all right.
Look under your bed, though, and then you might see...
Nothing!  We aren't afraid of ghosts now, are we?



  
Twas the Night Before a Harley Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru the house
Not a present in sight, I felt like a louse.
I had scrounged high and low for that certain possession
That could pass for a gift in this time of recession.

But all that I owned was old and worn out,
Surely nothing a child would get hyper about.
And there in a pile on the dining room table
Were all of the Christmas cards I'd forgotten to lable.

"Bah, humbug", I grumbled, "What do I care?"
I turned on the TV, collapsed in a chair.
Then out on the lawn there arose such a roar
I rushed down the hall, threw open the door.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a clean crimson Harley, overflowing with gear!
With a little old rider so odd and so weird,
Things were about to get worse, I suddenly feared.

I slammed the door shut, dead-bolted the lock,
Then at the back window I heard a soft knock.
I dashed up the hall, alarmed at the sound,
In thru the window he came with a bound.

He was dressed in black leather, from his head to his boot.
And thrown over his back was a bag full of loot.
I let out a scream, but he whispered real quick,
"Don't you recognize me? I'm good old St. Nick!"

"St. Nick", I stammered, "No way, Jose!
Where are your reindeer, where is your sleigh?"
"I laid the deer off a few years ago.
That darn global warming, there's too little snow.

The sleigh, it got stuck in the mud and the muck,
then Godzilla stepped on it, such was my luck.
Now the reindeer stay home, quite safe and quite warm.
I ride my old Harley, thru sleet and rain storm."

He took off his helmet while thus softly speaking.
His voice, it was calming, I was no longer freaking.
He opened his bag, began unpacking the toys,
Some pretty wild gifts for young girls and boys!

His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
The sight was uncanny, he looked like Ross Perot!

"Santa!", I exclaimed, "Where is your beard?
You look kind of funny, you look a bit weird.
And where is your round, fat little belly
That shook when you laughed, like a bowl full of jelly?"

"Ah, the milk and cookies", he said with a sigh,
"I gave them all up, cholesterol's too high.
And after all the new-fangled health hype,
Well, it was really hard, but I gave up my pipe.

As for the beard, it was always okay
When I flew thru the night with reindeer and sleigh.
But on the seat of a Harley, it's really quite sad,
Most folks thought with the beard, I looked biker bad".

So, laying a finger aside of his nose
Santa nodd'ed and chuckled, "That's how she goes!"
He dashed for the door, and went out with a leap,
Leaving presents galore, piled nearly knee deep!

He sprang to his bike, turned on the ignition,
And away he flew, a roaring ghostly apparition.
But I heard him exclaim, as he shifted up a gear,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND HAVE A HARLEY NEW YEAR!"



  
A Homebrewer's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Every creature was thirsty, including the mouse...
The steins were empty, and the bottles were too
The beer had been drunk with no time to brew.

My family was nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of Christmas Ale foamed in their heads.
Mama in her kerchief lamented the drought,
She craved a pilsner and I, a stout.

When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen, I flew like a flash,
Opening the door with a loud bang and crash!

I threw on the switch and the lights, all aglow,
Gave a luster of mid-day to the brew-pot below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But Gambrinus himself, the patron of beer.

With a look in his eye, so lively and quick,
He said, "You want beer? Well, here, take your pick."
More rapid than eagles, his recipes came
As he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

"Now, Pilsener! Now, Porter! Now, Stout and Now Maerzen!
On, Bitter! On, Lager! On, Bock and On Weizen!"
"To the top of the bottles, the short and the tall,
Now brew away, brew away, and fill them all!"

As dried hops before a wild hurricane fly,
And then, without warning, settle down with a sigh,
So towards the brew-pot, the ingredients flew,
Malt extract, roasted barley and crystal malt, too.

And then in a twinkling, I heard it quite plain,
The cracking open of each barley grain.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Into the kitchen, he came with a bound.

He was dressed like a knight, from his head to his toes,
With an old family crest adorning his clothes.
A bundle of hops, he had flung on his back,
And the brewing began when he opened his pack.

His hops were so fragrant! His barley, how sweet!
The adjuncts included Munich malt and some wheat.
The malted barley was mashed in the tun,
Then boiled with hops in the brew-pot 'till done.

Excitement had me gnashing my teeth,
As the sweet smell encircled my head like a wreath.
Beer yeast was pitched, both lager and ale,
The wort quickly fermented, not once did it fail.

It was then krausened, or with sugar primed,
And just being bottled when midnight had chimed.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, I'd be shortly in bed.

He spoke not a word but kept on with his work,
And capped all the bottles, then turned with a jerk.
And laying a finger alongside his nose,
He belched (quite a burp!) before he arose.

Clean-up was easy with only a whistle,
And away the mess flew, like the down on a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim, 'ere he left me the beer,
"Merry Christmas to all! and a HOPPY New Year!"



  
The Effect Of Inflation On Santa
by Dave Sharpe

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
How the tinsel was scattered! and twigs by the thousand.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care-
They were skewered with ten-penny nails, to be fair.
The children, God bless them, were snug in their beds,
With clothesline to anchor the ankles and heads.

The Wife in her housecoat, and I clad alike,
Had gone to cellar to get the new bike,
When from a dark corner arose such a clatter
I felt a strong urge to forget the whole matter.

The wife said go over and open the door;
I grabbed a stout cudgel and crept 'cross the floor
And gingerly peered through the glass to behold
A wee red-suited man, turning blue with cold.

Suppressing my dire thoughts of a communist trick,
I flung wide the portal, admitting..... St. Nick!
Poor Santa came in stamping snow from his feet
And cursing cold weather and all central heat.

"Your chimney's too small for a man of my girth"---
Which shows what the power of tradition is worth.
I asked him to stay, as the perfect host ought,
And my gimlet eyes gleamed at the parcels he brought.

Upstairs in the kitchen, hot toddy in hand,
Old Santa had both of us folks understand
That the new station wagon he'd purchased this year
To replace his eight quaint reindeer

was the poorest investment he ever had chosen--
It stalled by our house the engine plumb frozen.
My wife asked him then if the high cost of living,
Had interfered much with the job of gift-giving.

"I'll say so," quoth he. "Why, a plain roller skate
Is costing me $40.98!
And the cheapest new belt, since inflation intruded,
Costs $11.27, all taxes included;

My labor is raising all manor of hob
In fact, this here Christmas is too big a job."
He talked a while longer, but then had to go
When a wrecker from town came to give him a tow.

He left a tin whistle for Joey, our son,
And a watch for Matilda--I bet it won't run;
For the Wife, a new apron that makes her flesh crawl,
And a tie for yours truly completed our haul.

But I heard him exclaim, as he rolled out of sight,
"The blazes with Christmas--Tarnation is right!"



  
'Twas the Cop's Night Before Christmas 
 
'Twas the night before Christmas and I was at work
Doing car stops and house checks and dealing with jerks
There were drunkards and peepers: and husbands and wives
Carrying bottles and guns and BIG frickin' knives

There were car wrecks and fistfights and shootings and more
There were burglars and car thieves and Rachel the whore.
But what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a car full of ladies and a keg full of beer

They giggled and wiggled and shouted and screamed
And I said to myself this is just what I've dreamed
A car fall of cuties out looking for fun
I could stop and ask 'If they'd wait 'til I'm done

On headlights, on bar lights, on wig-wags and siren
I drove after them quickly, Man...was I flyin'
Through red lights and stop signs, a yard and a field
I tried every trick to get them to yield

They finally stopped and surrendered themselves
Which is when I discovered they weren't babes, BUT ELVES!
They wore make-up and lipstick and each wore a dress
But the hair on their legs made them look quite a mess

I asked them politely what their plans were for the night
"Cause frankly dear gents, you're one hell of a sight!"
The big one named Oscar gave a wink and a smile
And stood there and stared at me for a while

Then he answered me sharply and pulled out a beer
And said, "We are elves but we also are queer."
"Only once every year are we allowed to come out
To wiggle and giggle to scream and to shout"

"So we came to your town for some action and fun
So drop your drawers, your badge and your gun!"
I grinned then I laughed which went to a chuckle
That's when they began to tug on my buckle.

I pushed and I swung using both of my fists
Then I finally got clear. And boy! I Was I pissed!!
I needed some help so I pushed the red button
On the radio I had provided by Johnson.

I pushed and I poked with all of my power
But I guess it's too far from that god damn tower!
So there I was stuck my Johnson and me
Facing little queer elves from up in a tree

They gave us these radios and swore they were great
So the county spent millions and thus sealed our fate.
The end of this story, you're waiting to see
If those queer little elves got my Johnson and me?

Now I talk a bit higher and I walk like a duck
And the Johnsons we use they still really suck
Remember they're useless if you get in a fight
But, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!



  
Twas the Kitchen Tired Cook

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen;
I was cooking and baking and moanin' and bitchin'.
I've been here for hours, I can't stop to rest.
This rooms a disaster, just look at this mess!

Tommorow I've got thirty people to feed.
They expect all the trimmings.  Who cares what I need!
My feet are both blistered, I've got cramps in my legs.
The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.

There's a knock at the door and the telephone's ringing;
frosting drips on the counter as the microwave's dinging.
Two pies in the oven, desserts almost done;
my cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.

I've had alI I can stand, I cant take anymore;
Then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor.
He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady;
then grins as he chuckles, "The eggnog is ready!"

He looks all around and with total regret,
says, "Whats taking so long...aren't you through in here yet??"
As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;
He loses an earlobe; I wanted his life!

He flees from the room in terror and pain
and screams, "MY G-D WOMAN, YOU'RE GOING INSANE!!"
Now what was I doing, and what is that smell?
Oh, shit!  It's the pies!!  They're burned all to hell!!

I hate to admit when I make a mistake,
but I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE.
What else can go wrong??  Is there still more ahead??
If this is good living, I'd rather be dead.

Lord, dont get me wrong, I love holidays;
It just leaves me exhausted, all shakey and dazed.
But I promise you one thing, If I live till next year,
You wont find me pulling my hair out in here.

I'll hire a maid, a cook, and a waiter;
and if that doesnt work, I'LL HAVE IT ALL CATERED!!!



  
Twas The Inner City Night Before Christmas

'Twas The night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
So I took their stereo.



  
Twas the Night Before Christmas(RA Version)

Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru the nest
not a creature was stirring, 'cept Arthur the pest.
The support stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that the laundress would soon be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds.
While visions of Play Stations danced in their heads.
Wearing my splints with a rice sock in my lap
I had just settled down for a long winters nap.

When in my joints there arose such pain,
I limped from the bed to see if there was rain.
The moon on the breast of the unshovled snow
Gave a luster of midday to the objects below.

When what to my dry eyes should appear,
but a minature medical supply truck and eight tiny reindeer
With a little old driver so lively and quick
I knew in a moment that my HMO would not pay for this!

More rapid than eagles his assistants they came.
He whistled and shouted, And called them by name.
"Now, Dasher, now Dancer!now Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen!!!

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
Now dash away dash away, dash away all."
As the piles of unraked leaves that before the wild hurricaine fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house top, the assistants they flew,
with the truck full of adaptive equipment, and the Doctor Nick too.
And in a twinkling I heard (rather boring)
the wheezing and blowing of my husbands snoring.

As I pulled up his covers And patted his head
Down the chimney Dr. Nick Came with a new med.
He was dressed all in white, from his head to his foot.
His clothes were all covered in ashes and soot.

A bundle of supplies he had flung on his back.
He looked like a peddler just opening his sack.
My hands how they hurt, my knees how they ache
I knew that some people thought I was fake.

My Methotexate injection was drawn up in the den.
Just waiting for the nerve to go stick it in.
The cap of the needle I held tight in my teeth,
the RA fog circled in my head like a wreath.

I looked at my thigh, (I shouldnt have eaten that jelly!)
Then said " What the hell!" And injected my belly
I am chubby and plump. Like a prednisone Elf
Nick laughed when he saw me, In spite of his self.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He wasted no time, went straight to his work.
Gathered up all my meds, then turned with a jerk.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a new pill.
And put it in my mouth, I felt such a thrill.
I sprang to my feet, there was no more swelling.
I danced and jumped woke everyone up with my yelling.

I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight.
"Merry Christmas to all, theres a cure tonight"



  
Twas The Hospital's Night Before Christmas
by Donna Herrell 

Twas' the night before Christmas, when all through the house.
Not a creature was stirring, not a white-footed mouse.
The IV bags were hung, by the poles with care.
In hopes that St. Doctor soon would be there.

The child patients were nestled all snug in their beds.
While visions of antibiotics danced in their heads.
And Ma' in her night sweats, and I in my pain.
Had just settled down for a long winters nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter.
I limped from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I limped in a flash.
Pushed open the window and threw-up on the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear.
But Dr. S himself and eight tiny reindeer.

With a keen driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Stick.
More rapid than the IRS, his coursers they came.
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now NIH! Now CDC! Now WHO and NIMH!
On HMO's! On Blue Cross! On SSA and Medicare.
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash claims, dash claims, dash away all.

As spirochetes before antibiotics fly,
when they meet with the nucleus in it's eye.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of doxycycline and antidepressants too.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
The stamping and stomping of each big hoof.
As I drew my weary head and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Stick came with a bound.

He was dressed all in white from his head to his foot.
His clothes were not tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Prozac he had flung on his back.
And he looked like drug dealer carrying his pack.

His eyes-how they condescended! His dimples not there.
His cheeks were very pale, his nose like a pear.
His tight lipped mouth was drawn like a puppet.
And the beard on his chin looked like a muppet.

He didn't smoke, and so showed the white of his teeth.
And his ego encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a narrow face and a fairly trim belly.
That pooched out when he relaxed like a bowl full of jelly.

He was stern and lacked compassion, a right straight old doc.
And I cringed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head.
Soon gave me to know I had a lot to dread.

He spoke a lot of gibberish, then went straight to his work.
And filled all the stockings then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose 
And giving a nod up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a heed.
And away they all flew leaving my wallet in need.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight.
"Take Prozac twice a day and have a good night!"



  
The Night Before Christmas For Moms

It was the night before Christmas, when all thru the abode
only one creature was stirring, and she was cleaning the commode.
The children were finally sleeping, all snug in their beds,
while visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie, flipped through their heads.

The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
with a half-constructed bicycle on his knee.
So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
which made her sigh, "Now what's the matter?"

With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
she descended the stairs, and saw the old man.
He was covered with ashes and soot, which fell with a shrug.
"Oh great," muttered the mom, "Now I have to clean the rug."

"Ho-ho-ho!" cried Santa, "I'm glad you're awake."
"Your gift was especially difficult to make."
"Thanks, Santa, but all I want is some time alone."
"Exactly!" he chuckled, "I've made you a clone."

"A clone?" she asked, "What good is that?
Run along, Santa, I've no time for chit-chat."
The mother's twin. Same hair, same eyes,
same double chin. "She'll cook, she'll dust,"

She'll mop every mess. You'll relax, take it easy,
watch The Young & the Restless." "Fantastic!" the mom cheered.
"My dream come true! 
"I'll shop. I'll read., I'll sleep a whole night through!"

From the room above, the youngest began to fret.
"Mommy?! I scared... and I 'm wet."
The clone replied, "I'm coming, sweetheart."
"Hey," the mom smiled, "She knows her part."

The clone changed the small one, and hummed a tune,
as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon.
"You the best mommy ever. " I really love you."
The clone smiled and sighed, "I love you, too."

The mom frowned and said, "Sorry, Santa, no deal."
That's my child's love, she's trying to steal."
Smiling wisely Santa said, "To me it is clear,"
Only one loving mother, is needed here."

The mom kissed her child, and tucked her into bed.
"Thank you, Santa, " for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won't be very long,
when they'll be too old, for my cradle-song."

The clock on the mantle began to chime.
Santa whispered to the clone, "It works every time."
With the clone by his side Santa said, "Goodnight.
Merry Christmas, Mom, You'll be all right."



  
A Yuppie Christmas Poem

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the
  heavily mortgaged house
Not a creature was stirring Not even the Imac's mouse.
The Deductions lay nestled all snug in designer sheets
Done up in Baby Gap from their heads to their feet.

After six double lattes and a soccer mom's crap
I had to take a Halcion to get my winters nap.
Then all through the house there arose such a bay.
Like the muffled moans of Ellen on the night Anne went gay.

The noise kept on through the house I went walking
I traced it to the tree where a Furbee was talking.
It wouldn't shut up it's mouth all agape
I immediately wondered where we kept the tape.

It gave me a headache, my eyes could not see
I grabbed the little bastard and impaled it on the tree.
Much to my horror the toy kept rambling
while my friends without kids were in Vegas gambling.
 
Out the door I flew with the Furbee in tow
I figured I could bury it out in the snow.
I saw the minivan in the drive and thought of my family in bed
that's when I realized I wanted it dead.

Under a tire it went I stepped on the gas
As I sped off to Vegas I cried, "Interactive my ass!"



  
A Christmas poem...

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the pad,
There was nada happenin', now thats pretty bad.
The woodstove was hung up in that stocking routine,
In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene.

With our stomachs packed with tacos and beer,
My girl and I crashed on the couch for some cheer.
When out in the yard there arose such a racket,
I ran for the door and pulled on my jacket.

I saw a large bro' on a '56 Pan
Wearin' black leathers, a cap, and boots (cool biker, man).
He hauled up the bars on that bikeful of sacks,
And that Pan hit the roof like it was running on tracks.

I couldn't help gawking, the old guy had class.
But I had to go in -- I was freezing my ass.
Down through the stovepipe he fell with a crash,
And out of the stove he came dragging his stash.

With a smile and some glee he passed out the loot,
A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot.
He patted her fanny and shook my right hand,
Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe he ran.

From up on the roof came a great deal of thunder,
As that massive V-twin ripped the silence asunder.
With beard in the wind, he roared off in the night,
Shouting, "Have a cool Yule, and to all a good ride!"



  
Twas Nascar Before Christmas
 
'Twas the night before Christmas; we were all in the den
With stacks of blank tapes waiting for ESPN
To begin their long-promised NASCAR race binge.
"I should've played Santa", I thought with a twinge

"For the kids, while they're little; Dad did it for me".
When a gawdawful roar drowned out the TV.
I ran to the window and my eyes opened wide
As a black Chevy sleigh with a "3" on its side

Streaked down the driveway and over the lawn
Smoking and sparking, with one fender gone.
It steamed and it rumbled, seemed ready to stall
And six or eight elves came over my wall.

They jacked up the sleigh, the right runner came off,
When the engine fell silent with one last deep cough.
Four dove under the hood; I saw eight tiny feet
While the driver, disgusted, sat low in his seat.

The one elf came 'round to the side and said, "Shit!
The oil cooler's busted. What'd you hit?"
The driver said nothing; the elf hurried away.
Then the driver unbuckled and climbed from the sleigh.

He threw down his helmet in the snow with a smack
Then pulled a big bag from out of the back,
Squinted down through his shades at a list that he had.
Then growled up at me, though he didn't sound mad,

"Y'all got three kids here? Dick, Sarah and Kyle?
Them elves'll be busy. We'll be here a while."
I was still kind of shocked, but I opened the door,
and he clumped up the steps and across the hall floor.

The kids gathered round, their mouths open in awe
While he rubbed his mustache and sized up what he saw
Then he pulled out a die-cast and gave it to Kyle
The "44" hot Wheels brought out a big smile.

Dick got a turquoise Ford marked "Hellig-Myers"
and grinned up at the driver and played with the tires.
Then the driver looked down and nodded his head,
And reached in the bag and to Sarah he said,

"All the girls wanted this one" and handed her "5".
Sarah just stared, and I came alive
And said "Thank the man, Sarah"; she looked at the floor
Then said "Terry's OK, but I want '24'".

Though just for a moment his shoulders did sag,
He quickly recovered and reached in his bag
For a rainbow-striped Chevy then leaned down and whis-
pered "The kid ain't all bad". She gave him a kiss.

He turned for the door, then quickly looked back,
And pulled one more die-cast out of his sack.
He gave it to me and did it look great -
A black Thunderbird, with a red "28".

Tears came to my eyes and the numbers got wavy;
I sure like the car, but I wish it said "Davey".
Then an elf stuck his head in the door and said "Go!".
The driver dashed out and ran through the snow.

He buckled back in and pulled in his sack
Then the elves dropped the sleigh down off of the jack.
I leaned out the door, shouting over the din
"Where do you go from here?" He gave me a grin

And called as the sleigh sailed up over the gate
"I'm winning Daytona, then I'm going for eight".



  
Twas Nascar Before Christmas
 
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land
the racetracks were silent no cars were on hand.
The racers asleep in their beds did they lay
while dreams of big wins danced Merrily away.

The champs have been crowned the races are run.
The name of the game is what have you done?
From Moyer, LaJoie, Sprague, and Gordon
to Cywinski and Kerr and Swindell and Goodson.

Tanner and Maine and Francis and Shuman
Canipe and Brazier and Kaeding  and Watson
Gilliland, Germone and Stefanik a pair
Gosselin and Gill all Champions this year.

From T-Bird to Taurus, Ford is changing the car
Sportscars in turmoil and theres the Indy car war.
The Late Models are gone from the Hooters Cup scene
Instead its the ProCup that they see in their dreams.

At Daytona the Firecracker runs under lights
but it sure puts the short tracks in one heck of a plight.
Then out of the darkness there comes such a sight.
A firesuit of red and a beard thats so white.

Down from the heavens he flies oh so fast
the sound you dont hear until he is past,
The exhaust it does roar and the tires they do squeal
He looks like Bodine, Come on now, Get real!

From rooftop to rooftop he zips and he zooms,
leaving gifts for drivers, officials and crews.
For Query  a win and Mader and Gill.
For Francis another Championship deal.

For Wendell and Bloomquist theres hope for next year,
Maybe Moyer will have problems in finding the gear.
For Raudmans the chance at a SW tour win
While Tanners the man up North once again.

Cywinski is gone From the ASA tour
instead it the trucks and a rookie once more.
The Kinsers and Sammy are bad to the bone
but Stevies the one that could take it all home.

For All-Pro and All Stars and SAS too
the gifts that he leaves could mean someone new.
For racers all over the hope springs eternal
that their names will appear in the years racing journals.

Then with the roar of the engine and a clash from the gears
he heads for the distance, hell return here next year.
One can hear him shout as he roars out of sight
Merry Christmas to all and good luck in 98!



  
'Twas the Night Before Raceday

'Twas the night before raceday and all through the house
There was bending of wrenches, from hubby to spouse.
The children were tucked all snug in their beds
While visions of trophying danced in their heads.

The van in the driveway was ready to go
The leathers were polished the helmets aglow.
Ma in her coveralls and Pa in his jeans
Had just settled down to work on the machines.

When from inside the engine there arose such a clatter
He pulled off the head to see what was the matter.
The light from the dropcord on the new polished head
Showed nothing the matter but the engine was dead.

When what to his wondering eyes should appear
But a busted up crank and worn out main gear.
He knew in a moment he must find the trick
To keep his scoot running so rapid and quick.

"My spanner, my sockets put the light over here
Wife quit your bitchin' now hand me a beer".
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work
Repaired the trouble and turned with a jerk,

And laying his Coors can aside at his feet
Exclaimed with great pride, "I'll never be beat".
They heard him yell as he drove out of sight
"Tomorrow I'll be first." And they knew he was right.

For whenever he raced, he raced with his heart
But on Sunday morning the bike wouldn't start.



  
Yuppie Christmas...
by Keith Blanchard

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru' the condo,
Not a creature was stirring whose car had known Bondo.
The Gucci's were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that the neighbors would notice them there.

The dependents were nestled, all snug in their beds
While Porsches and charge accounts danced in their heads
And my dove and I, watching TV cable stations
Had just settled down to three weeks paid vacation.

When out in the drive there arose such a clamor
My wife lost her place in a story in Glamour.
To the window I had the man run, like a flash
To make sure it was garbage men taking the trash.

But he said, "It's a lawyer, sir, parking his car.
I fear it's a Jetta, and in THIS front yard!
Shall I sound the alarm?"  "Yes, don't let him inside!
My ex must want more alimony," I cried.

But though servants locked windows and barred the front door,
Our defense was as loose as a two-dollar whore.
For just as back in the Jacuzzi I stepped,
A soot-suited man from the fireplace leapt.

"I flew down the flue," he informed, and I sighed.
"That sure puts a damper on things," I replied
He was dressed in a suit, with three pieces and tie,
But I saw he'd forgotten to zip up his fly.

He had a long nose that resembled a dork,
And his beady eyes begged to be poked with a fork.
With only these words, "You poor Ivy-leagued jerk!
This isn't your day!" he went straight to his work.

Beneath the aluminum tree he did crouch,
And took all of our presents to put in his pouch.
The TV's and stereos, jewelry and clothes,
All went into his Hefty, and then he arose.

He crossed the fireplace, turning his back...
And emptied our stockings out into the sack.
But just as I thought that was all I would lose,
He went to the kitchen and drank all my booze.

Then he dumped all our silverware into the bag,
And added the new VCR to his swag.
Our Waterford crystal, our Tiffany lamps,
My son's Telecaster and thousand-watt amps,

My Princeton diploma was yanked off the wall
And twenty sports jackets from out in the hall.
My antique collection, the wife's diamond rings,
He ransacked the house and took all of our things!

But when he had stacked all the bags by the door,
Well, I brought our my Doberman and said, "Listen you boor!
You've invaded our privacy - I know the law!
KILL, Charger, KILL!"  But the lawyer guffawed,

And laying a finger aside of his nose
Gave a honk, and blew snot - all over my clothes.
He grabbed a dry breadstick and took my dog's life,
Then ran to the bedroom and ravished my wife!

Now, I really was peeved! "Sir, I'll see you in court!
You can't do such things to collect nonsupport!"
But he laughed, "Nonsupport?" as he got off my spouse.
"Tomorrow they're coming to take down your house.

And soon the policemen will drag you away.
Your own Uncle Sam's repossessing today!"
"You mean you aren't my ex-wife's attorney?"
I asked, while he loaded my gold Lamborghini.

He laughed as he dashed away into the night,
And tossed a grenade which blew out my porch light.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Damn, your wife was awfully tight.

What's more, 'Alimony'??  My Gawd...
Man, you're going to prison for income tax fraud."



  
Christmas Worms
by Julie Gordon 
     
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse.
I lay still beside him until I heard a snore,
then I slipped from the bed and out through the door.
     
I crept up the hallway and down the front stair;
I tiptoed to the living room to see what was there.
And lo and behold, under the tree,
was a shiny black box labelled to ME!
     
I pulled and I pried, and as I lifted the lid,
I heard a cough from behind, my husband up from bed.
I stood up and stammered "I-I just couldn't sleep";
"Mm-hm", answered Don, "well that box'll keep".
     
And so I resigned to go back to bed,
but visions of gifts still danced through my head.
A new dress, a necklace, a crate full of socks;
what could possibly be contained in that box?
     
A tea set, some perfume, a puppy to keep;
I ran through the options as I drifted to sleep.
In the morning I woke from that sleep with a scream;
creepies and crawlies; I'd had a bad dream.
     
And then I remembered just what day it was:
December 25th, Christmas, of course!
I ran to the living room to see what I'd get,
but I wasn't prepared for the sight that I met.
     
There were worms in the carpet, worms on the chairs,
worms in the hallway, worms on the stairs.
Worms hung from the lampshades and climbed up the walls;
they infested the kitchen; they crawled through the halls.
     
I looked at my husband; on his face was pure shock;
bewildered he wondered, "how'd they escape from that box?"
And then I remembered that I'd lifted the lid;
could worms have been what my Christmas box hid?
     
"Yes", said my hubby, "it's a vermicomposter";
under my breath I muttered, "I'd as soon have a toaster".
But alas I was stuck with this so-called 'worm bin',
So I set about getting those worms back in.
     
And now it's one year later, Christmas eve once again;
my house plants are thriving, I've worm bins times ten.
Yes, it's true, that black gold sure works like a charm;
I can't wait 'til my husband opens his brand new ant farm!   



  
Twas the Night Before Christmas In Prison
 
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the cells
The convicts were locked up, all madder than hell
Except for the lifers, kicked back in their bunks
Heads filled with visions of fat little punks

When suddenly from the roof top there arose such a roar
That the bulls thought it was a riot for sure
The goon squad ran in and stood ready to hit
A big guard yelled out who started this shit

It came from the roof top, sniveled a snitch
It must be a breakout! Oh, son of a bitch!
They climbed to the roof, by way of the stairs
Found a fat little freak, in red underwear

No, No yelled the dude, I bring you good cheer
Damn said the Captain. We found us a queer
Alright mother fucker. Get your hands on the wall.
They shook him down good, asshole and all.

They beat him and threw him, into the hole with a kick.
Well so much for Christmas, they locked up St. Nick!



  
Mystery Of Rudolph
by Terry Gray and Larry Gable

'Twas the night before Christmas and we were all in a hurry
No one had seen Rudolph, Santa started to worry.
We looked everywhere both high and low
and we knew we needed Rudolph for the big show.

When he was found he looked sickly and pale
He said that he partied too hard and spent 3 days in jail.
Santa told Rudolph the big night was here
so go take a shower and put down the beer

That's when Rudolph told Santa, "I don't think I can"
and Santa said but you have to, "Cause I love you, man"
And if you don't listen to what I'm telling you
tomorrow for lunch we'll have Reindeer stew!

So Rudolph said "fine, let's pack up and go"
but before we do there's something you should know
This is the last year I'll pull your damn sled
Because after this I'm retiring to bed

The day after Christmas Santa threw a big feast
we had cakes and pies and even roast beef
But then with a sly grin Santa said we should try something new
Mrs. Claus has cooked all day and made us some stew.

We ate and we drank til they turned the lights off
but none seemed to know what ever happened to Rudolph
We here at the North Pole we'll miss his red nose
It's still a big mystery that only Santa knows!




Rudolph's Night Off

'Twas the night before Christmas and Rudolph was lame!
The vet from the North Pole said, "Footrot's to blame.
I'll give him some sulfa, it's the best I can do
But stall rest is needed the next week or two."

"Great Scott!" cried old Santy, he turned with a jerk,
"I won't git through Pierre if my headlights don't work!
On Interstate 40 I'll surely get fined
And lost in Montana if I'm flying blind!"

"No cop in his right mind would give any clout
To a geezer who claimed that his reindeer went out!"
He gathered the others, ol' Donner and Blitzen,
Were any among 'em whose nose was transmitzen?

They grunted and strained and sure made a mess
But no noses glowed brightly or ears luminesced.
"It's bad luck in bunches," cried Santy, distressed,
"We'll fly Continental, the Red Eye Express!"

"I'll just check the schedule," he put on his glasses
When up stepped 'ol Billy, the goat from Lampasasas.
He shivered and shook like a mouse on the Ark
But his horns were a beacon...They glowed in the dark!

Santy went crazy!  He asked, "Why?" with a smile
"I just ate a watch with a radium dial!
Where I come from in Texas we don't have thick hide
My skin is so thin it shines through from inside."

"If that's true then let's feed him!" cried Santy with glee
"Gather everything burnin' and bring it to me!"
So Billy ate flashbulbs and solar collectors,
Electrical eels and road sign reflectors,

Firecracker sparklers, a Lady Schick shaver
And Lifesavers, all of em' wintergreen flavor,
Jelly from phophorescellous fish,
Day Glow pizza in a glittering dish,

Fireflies and candles and stuff that ignites,
Then had him a big bowl of Northering Lights!
He danced on the rug and petted the cat
And after he'd finished and done all of that

To store up the static 'lectricity better
They forced him to eat two balloons and a sweater!
Then he opened his mouth, light fell on the floor,
Like the fridge light comes on when you open the door!

His Halloween smile couldn't be better drawn
When he burped accidently, his high beams kicked on!
"Hitch him up!" cried ol' Santy, and they went on their way.
I remember that Christmas to this very day

The sky was ablaze with the stars shining bright.
They were shooting and falling all through the night.
And I realize now, though my fingers are crossed,
What I really was seein'...was ol' Billy's exhaust!  




The Night Before Christmas (As Told by Santa Claus)
by Percy Ross, Timothy D. Kehr, and John M. Maddock
 
'Twas the night before Christmas...a year 'go this night.
I hurried and scurried to get on my flight.
Warned my Sally Claus as I ran to the door,
"Careful, dear, watch out, I just waxed the floor!"

"Oh?" I whoaed, feeling me starting a slip,
And, "Whoa!" as I flipped to the floor on my hip!
The table went flying into the air,
As well as the dishes, the cups and the chairs.

Before I could utter another loud shout,
Crashing about me they knocked me right out!
Sally came running from hearing the smash-up,
but I lay there a helpless and hapless crash-up

A few minutes later, I woke up in bed,
Sally was wrapping some gauze 'round my head.
I tried to get up but the hurt wouldn't let me.
"Sally..." I moaned, "Have the elves come to get me?"

"No, dear," said she, "You must stay till you're well."
"What about Christmas?!" I rang like a bell!
"Now is the night I must go on my rounds,
Taking the present to cities and towns!"

The sleigh was all packed, and the reindeer were ready,
The elves had to quiet and hold them down steady.
Sally's eyes widened, "Say, how 'bout the elves?"
I groaned, "They can't handle the sleigh by themselves!"

Doing the magical deeds that I can?
Why, taking my place would sure take quite the man!
"Well, call in the elves to come here to my bed.
They can unpack all the presents," I said.

Sally Claus did so, and when they came to me,
I told them what happened, and they looked so gloomy.
"S-S-Santa!" they stuttered. "No presents this year?"
"Sorry..." I whispered, and they cried, "Oh, dear!"

"Isn't there someone," they pleaded, "to try?"
"Nary a person..." I breathed with a sigh.
"There is no time left, it's now Christmas Eve.
Would that I could, even I'm late to leave."

While we were speaking and seeking an answer,
Loud came a shouting, "Up Dancer and Prancer!
Up Comet! Up Cupid! Go Donner and Blitzen!
Rudolph, now lead! On Dasher and Vixen!"

I turned to the elves, and they all turned to me,
Each of us wondering, "Who could that be?"
Maybe a hero? Or could be a gangster!
I cried, "What if it is a mean, mischievous prankster?

"Meanwhile, have Sally brew us up some tea.
We must give though to this strange mystery.
Ask her to join us, out thoughts are confused.
She's good at minding her P's and her Q's."

They came back puffing: "She's not in her chair,
Not in the kitchen, we looked everywhere.
We went outside, and we ran all around,
Searching and calling! "She's not to be found!"

Early next morning, we stirred to a tingling.
Far off the sound of faint sleigh-bells came jingling!
Rushing the windows and leaning the sills,
Scanning, we squinted the bright North Pole hills.

"Surprise!" Sally shouted, "I had so much fun!
I did it! I did it! And didn't miss one!"
"Sally!" I got up and rushed to her side,
"Sally, you're home, I'm so happy!" I cried.

"Each Christmas," she chided, "When you flew away,
You didn't return here for most of the day.
But I, for the first time..." she started to laugh,
"Delivered the presents in less time than half!"

What could I tell her? What she said was true.
I don't know how she could do it, do you?
Maybe I'll find out tonight when we ride...
This Christmas Eve, she'll be right by my side.

"And they waved with this wish as they flew out of sight:
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"



  
A TWA Christmas
by Elliot Campbell
                                      
Twas the night before Christmas, When all over the plane
Not a fuel tank was stirring, Not even the main
The pilot was watching as Santa flew by
And he noticed the sleigh lights illuminate the sky
                                      
He caught them on radar as they departed his view
To the North Pole they headed, The pilot did too
A calm Christmas evening high up in the sky
They all ate their dinners (sandwiches on rye)
                                      
But the passengers were unaware of their unpleasant fate
For vapors were forming at an abnormal rate
But disaster would strike if the main tank was stirred
For wires were frayed and a large creak was heard
                                      
A maintenance mistake was probably to blame
But the FAA investigators would make up some claim
The pilot was oblivious to the catastrophe near
And stirred the front tank, Followed by the rear
                                      
The main tank was next but he heard a bang
As he turned around, the secret phone rang
He answered the phone and said Hi, its Mitch
Then he turned towards the panel, flipping the switch
                                      
The turbines stirred but the wires did arc
Igniting the vapors, All from that little spark!
The main tank exploded with such great force
It sent the plane reeling on a brand new course
                                      
The decent was rapid, The ground closed in quick
A fleeting sensation denounced St. Nick
The families were called and an investigation began
The whole thing was headed by the FBI chairman

The investigation was closed the first of the year
But I heard ol St. Nick caused trouble with the MIR.



  
A Triage Nurse's Night Before Christmas
                                      
Twas the night before Christmas and wild were the phones.
All the children were whining, and crying with moans.
Our headsets were plugged in, our phones logged in right.
We hoped that St Nicholas might call us this night.

No children were nestled all snug in their beds,
For coughing and sneezing caused pains in their heads.
Then Moms got quite anxious, and Dads were more nervous,
"We'll just call the nurses at that great On-Call Service!"

The call center was noisy, the place filled with chatter.
Our job here as nurses -- to see what was the matter.
A babe with an earache, a child with a rash,
A quick moving bike caused a spill and a crash.
             
Back and forth to our chairs to handle the faxes.
Both flu and the colds our resources taxed.
The stories so sad, to our eyes bring a tear,
Computer keys prancing as fast as reindeer.

With the little ol' charge nurse, so lively and quick
Yelling, "We've got lots more faxes, and everyone's sick!"
More rapid than eagles the faxes they came,
We whined and we shouted, and called them by name;

"Not RASHES! No FEVER! Please no COLD, FLU and LICE!
No more BUMPS, LUMPS and BRUISES! Just put them on ICE!"
"I'm missing my break time, I'm just off the wall!
I'm going insane, can't do just one more call!"

As sudden as lightning that strikes from the sky,
The faxes they stopped -- and we didn't know why.
We checked every plug, connection and line,
But lo and behold, it was all working fine.

As we unplugged our headsets and all turned around
Through the door old St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in red, which we knew was his thing,
And right past security -- the alarm didn't ring!

A bundle of food he did pull from his sack
Pizza and cookies and food from Thai Shack
His eyes -- they were bloodshot! his smile quite merry!
His cheeks were like roses, no doubt from some sherry!

He smiled at us all, then stuck out his tongue.
We smiled back sweetly as we ate egg foo yung.
He sucked on his pipe, which we know wasn't smart,
And prayed that the fire alarm just wouldn't start.

The jolly old fellow sat down at my chair
Gave the headset, computer and keyboard a stare.
He picked up the phone and we missed who he dialed
Though some of us guessed it was to "every child".

He said "Ho ho, little ones... tell your folks that I'm near."
Then he whispered some more, something we couldn't hear.
Then laying the phone once more on the hook,
He laughed at us all, and his belly it shook.

He sprang out the door, and we heard a loud beep,
As Santa drove off down the road in a Jeep.
This made us all wonder if we had seen the "real thing".
The silence was shattered with a single fax ring.

Then we saw it all clearly, the sheet printed in sight.
It read, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"



  
A Truckin Christmas Story
by Bob O'Connor (in 1973 during the Arab Oil Crisis)

Twas the night before Christmas and although it was Yule,
Not an engine was running, cause we couldn't get fuel.
We couldn't get parts so we just quit fixin,
And blamed all our troubles on someone named Nixon.

My wrenches were placed in their box by the wall,
With hopes that I'd get an expensive road call,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a fat-man in red, with a break-down near here.

He was cubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
But I knew that I'd shaft him, in spite of myself.
He spoke of a sleigh with an eight reindeer mill,
So I pegged him a drunkard who'd drank all his fill.

Now I've spent lots of money for specialized tools,
So believe me when I say, I'm nobody's fool.
But please, if you can, tell me how in the hell,
To charge plugs in a reindeer, or adjust a sleigh-bell,

For years I've mechaniced, so heed what I say,
And don't mess with the fat-man, his reindeer, or sleigh.



  
Once Upon a Christmas Eve

Twas the night before Christmas, and down the dark hall
I heard the deep voice of C.W. McCall
"Breaker One-Nine", he said with a sneer
"My truck's head up the ass, of a herd full of deer"

Glancing about I looked out the window
And from inside his cab, I saw the warm glow
Of glass  valves - red hot, in the footwarmer this night
As St. Nick and McCall prepared for their flight

Out the window I went, and down a large vine
Reaching the ground, I turned to meet Red Sovine
He was carrying Teddy Bear under his arm,
Running away with a look of alarm

"He's seen us" Red said, a glint in his eye
McCall never flinched - just waved a "Good Bye"
Santa clamped down, foot to the floor
Then grabbed his hand mike and yelled "That's A'FOUR!!"

The big truck blew smoke, out of it's stacks
I climbed back up the vine and ran into my shack
There on the table, right next to the SAMS
Sat a big, brand new rig, vintage '72 Tram!

Breaker ONE-NINE, I broke into the night,
McCall's voice could be heard, "We hear ya alright"
"Thanks for stuff", I said, rubbing my eyes,
"Don't say to much" said Red, "Or you'll make Teddy cry"

Setting the shiny, chicken-choker down,
I thumbed through an S9, and then turned up the sound
Channel sixteen, the lower side a good bet.....
I could hear Santa say:  "Hope you like the new set"

"QSL 'ol St. Nick", I said gripping the mike
"Safe flying to you, and all CBer's alike
"Ten-four" he replied, his signal almost line-of-sight
"Merry Christmas to You, and to all a good night"



  
The Unabomber's Night Before Xmas
by Shadow

Twas the night before Xmas and all thru the cabin
not a creature was stirring.... except for a madman
his bombs all lined up by the woodstove with care
in hopes that the mailman soon would be there.

He wrapped them with ribbons in packages bright
With the hopes that the Corpocrats soon would sleep tight.
When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter
He went to the door to see what was the matter

And there at the door stood a huge mob of Feds
With a bright set of handcuffs & sharp orange threads.
He said, "What? Me wear those things? No way! In your dreams!
Cause this package will blow you to small smithereens!

Come Blaster & Blixen, 
come Thunder & Blitzen
My little creations to you I do call,
Blast away, blast away, blast away all!"

He called to his guests as they ran off in fright,
"Happy bombing to you and to you a good night!"



  
Twas the Night Before Christmas
(on the Union Pacific)

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the west,
not a steel wheel was turning, all trains were at rest.
The train crews were stuck in sidings everywhere,
In hopes that their re-crews soon would be there.

My conductor and I hid our eyes with our cap,
and adjusted our seats for a long winter's nap.
When from outside the cab there arose such a clatter,
I sat up in my seat to see what was the matter.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
but Santa's sleigh pulled by sled dogs, not reindeer.
I opened the window in search of an answer,
"Hey Santa!" I called "Where's Dancer? Where's Prancer?"

Santa landed and told me a grim tale of woe,
how the reindeer were hungry and too weak to tow!
He said, "All the reindeer food's stuck in Nebraska,
there's none anywhere from Iceland to Alaska!"

"And my toys are at Long Beach piled up on the docks,
I've got nothing to give the good children but socks!"
"And I can't fill the stockings of kids who've been bad,
I've looked everywhere, there's no coal to be had."

When I asked Santa why, he was very specific,
he blamed all his troubles on Union Pacific.
As he flew off in his sleigh, over mountain and river,
I heard him exclaim: "Somehow, I will deliver!"



  
Twas the Night Before Gift Giving
                                       
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
I was standing and thinking, "My man is a louse!"
No packages in the stockings, no gifts under the tree,
"What's the matter with him, doesn't he love me?"
      
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I ran to my window to see what was the matter.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
It was Santa holding gifts and grinning from ear to ear!
                                       
He proudly exclaim, "This year, to your prayers he didn't listen,
I have brought you all beautiful gifts that shimmer and glisten."
Strewn on the lawn from my neighbor's house to mine,
Were baubles and jewels and pretties from Santa's North Pole Line.
                                       
As he headed towards home, with my gifts strewn over the land,
He turned to me slowly with advice for my man.
"Now, remember, each year, gift-giving can get worse.
Avoid disappointment, have him ask you what you want first!"



  
Another Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and I was uptight.
There WAS something missing. Felt somethings not right.
The holiday fluff was hung up with care.
Retailers were glad.  For sales goals were there.

I with my bottle.  Wife under stress.
Guests were obnoxious.  A fine Christmas mess.
With Christmas depression, I happen to spy.
A dusty old Bible.  Without knowing why.

Picked up the old book and turned to the story.
Back to the time, of Christmass glory.
The shepherds were watching their sheep in the night.
And LO! Up above a WONDERFUL sight.

The Angels were singing in GLORIOUS praise.
A babe in a manger,  Wholl from sin mankind raise.
And up in the sky.  Beholding afar.
Oer mother and babe, a BRIGHT shining star.

Leaving their flocks, to see that night.
Our tiny Savior, Wholl set evil to flight.
With tears in my eyes, I remembered the reason.
This tiny child, was the cause for the season.

I called out through the house.  And gathered my clan.
And read from the Bible, so theyd understand.
We sang that night.  We worshiped the King.
And we felt the JOY, of what Christmas brings.

We drew closer together.  Filled with His Light.
Merry Christmas to all.  To all a Good Night.



  
The Day After Christmas
by David Frank

'Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
Children sat slack-jawed, bored on the couch.
Wrappings and toys littered the floor,
An incredible mess that I did abhor.

With Mom in her robe and I in my jeans,
We waded in to get the place clean.
When suddenly the doorbell: it started to clatter,
I sprang to the Security-View to check out the matter.

The new-fallen snow, now blackened with soot,
Was trampled and icy and treacherous to foot.
But suddenly in view, did I gasp and pant:
An unhappy bill collector and eight tiny accountants.

The door flew open and in they came,
Stern-looking men with bills in my name.
On Discover, on Visa, on American Express,
On Mastercard too, I sadly confess,

Right to my limits, then beyond my net worth,
OUer the top I had charged, in a frenzy of mirth.
The black-suited men, so somber, so strict,
I wondered why me that they had first picked.

They stared at me with a look I couldn't miss,
That said "Buddy, when are you for paying for this?"
I shrugged my shoulders, but then I grew bolder,
Went to the cabinet and pulled out a folder.

"As you can see," I said with a smile,
"It's bankruptcy that I'll have to file!"
And with a swoop of my arm, my middle digit extended
I threw the bills in the fire: the matter had ended.

The scent of burnt ash came to my nose,
As up the chimney my credit-worthiness rose.
Without another word they turned and walked out,
Got into their limos, but one gave a shout:

"You may think that's the answer to all of your fears,
But it's nothing you'll charge for at least seven years!



  
'Twas the Night After Christmas

Twas the night after Christmas and all through the place 
any creature that stirred fell flat on her face.
We'd ripped open the treasures and ransacked the stockings,
the amount of goodies we ate was quite shocking.

No one knew how St. Nick had got in while we dozed,
for the doors were all locked and the chimney was closed.
But we knew he'd been here and he didn't leave coal,
and 12 hours later, all the fun took its toll.

The children were nestled wherever they fell,
and Mommy and Daddy were feeling quite swell.
We all had survived a fine Holiday Season,
without losing our sanity, for some unknown reason.

The tree and the trimmings were still standing intact.
Awful gifts from the "great" aunts could all go back
to the stores with the kids' reject mufflers and hats,
to trade for the perfect glove and/or bat.

Just 24 hours ago we all swore
we'd never re-enter another mall store.
"Not for any reason, wild horses can't drag
us back to those mobs," we'd been heard to brag.

"But, Lord, did you see what Aunt Ethel has sent?"
"We can get something cool with the money she spent.
These clothes are so lame," said the kids in a twinkling,
and I thought to myself, What on earth was she thinking?

So we fell asleep on couch, floor or beds,
while visions of super sales danced in our heads.
But most of the wonders we'd unwrapped were great,
though some of the shopping was done rather late.

Still we loved all the toys and the tools and the dresses,
but what I need now is some help with the messes.
The den has been trashed, the living room's missing.
The toddler just fell and her "owwie" needs kissing.

The teenager's ear appears stuck to the phone,
yet he's blasting a tape by some "thugs" he calls Bone.
The kitchen may need some paint and some plaster.
The dinner, delicious, the stove's a disaster.

There's not a clean plate, glass or spoon to be found
I can't find the counter, my head's starting to pound!
Quick, somebody, open this tight childproof cap.
Never mind, there's no water, I buried the tap.

And so as we bask in the Holiday glow
with all of the loved ones and friends that we know,
I'll repeat this again and get it just right,
Merry Christmas to all, and now please, kids, good night!



  
'Twas the Night After Christmas

'Twas the night after Christmas and all through the kitchen
Little creatures were stirring up, potions bewitching.
Salmonella were working in the gravy and soup
In the hopes they could turn it to poisonous goop!

Clostridium were nestled all snug in the ham,
While Hep A virus danced in the yam.
Little John and his Gobots and Mary in her cap
Had just settled down for a long overdue nap.

While down in their guts there arose such a clatter
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.
They ran to the bathroom, threw open the door!
Too late!  Now their mother is cleaning the floor.

Wash your hands before cooking! Put your food away quick!
Or that jolly old food germ we know as Saint Sick
With his eight tiny microbes will ruin the feast
As they make their toxins he calls out to each beast -

Now Hepatitis! Now Staph and Perfringens!
We'll punish those humans For Hoilday binges!
On, Botulism!  E. coli!  Shigella!
Go get 'em, Amoeba! Work fast, Salmonella!

If those humans can't learn to handle food right,
A Merry Christmas they'll have, then a long, sleepless night!



  
The Night Before Absolutely Nothing

Twas the night before crisis,
And behind White House doors,
Not a creature was stirring,
Especially Al Gore.

The interns were nestled,
Dressed in their berets,
In hopes that Saint Bubba
Would come out to play.

When on the East Lawn,
There arose such a clatter,
Even Sam Donaldson
Lost control of his bladder.

Away to our TVs
We flew like a flash,
There's a special report,
And it's pre-empting M*A*S*H!

And what to our wondering
Eyes should appear,
But a homely lil' troll,
With tapes for us to hear.

With a K-Mart bought blazer,
And a bad frizzy 'do,
And a tale to be told-
To me, and to you.

On the chair! On the carpet!
On the Oval Office desk!
With a chubby young intern,
Who was all eyes and chest.

The Pres had been careless,
Indeed, dumb and dumber.
Now the whole world knew
Bubba Had gotten a hummer.

And Monica Lewinsky
Emerged from the rubble,
If she'd just kept her mouth shut,
We'd not have all this trouble.

And thus set in motion,
A whole web o' spiders,
With pundits galore,
And "White House insiders.

You ask, "Who would care
About Bill and his penis?"
Republican Ken Starr,
And he's armed with subpoenas!

More rapid than eagles,
Process servers, they flew!
"Here's one for you!
And for you! And you, too!"

"Now Jordan! Now Cockell!
Is there anyone else?!?
Let's subpoena the lawyers!
And Bubba himself!!"

"We want you to tell us
About Bill's private life,
And anyone he sleeps with,
'cept, of course, his wife."

And many months later,
After long we've all suffered,
Let's examine more closely
Just what Starr's uncovered.

We've learned "Little Bill"
Has a mind of his own,
And-horror of horrors-
He likes to get blown!

A funny fact surfaced,
After 40 million bucks:
Seems most people don't care
Just who Clinton, er, makes love to.

The economy's great,
And shows no signs of slowing.
Hell, we hope Ms. Lewinsky
NEVER stops blowing!

Now the public's grown weary.
Will this sleaze never end?
We just want to get back
To "E.R.", and to "Friends."

Now Monica, Linda --
And Ken Starr, you Suck-
Get the hell off my TV,
Your 15 minutes are up.



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