'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through this blog
Not a creature was stirring, not even a ...frog?;
The stockings were hung by the sidebar with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The Brats were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of mom ever getting off the computer danced in their heads;
And Husband in his....er.... 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the World Wide Web there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the ...Um...."Windows" I flew like a flash,
Double clicked open the file and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
(That's my screensaver. Nice, eh? Very picturesque.)
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Folgers! now, Maxwell! now, Starbucks and Timmies!
On, Nescafe! on Sanka! on, Nabob and ...uh...Chock full o' Nuts!
(what? Not EVERYTHING can ryhme, ya know. Shut up and enjoy it)
To the top of the Title! to the top of the Blog!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the blog-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of YARN, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the sidebar St. Nicholas came 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 yarn he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
(ok, Santa, this is a no smoking blog.)
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed 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 nothing to dread;
(except all the retail havoc he creates. Thanks, Santa. I 'owe' you one)
He spoke not a word, but 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 sidebar he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew 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."