'Twas the Night Before Christmas
'Twas the year before Christmas, and all through the allyway,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a gorilla.
The underwear were hung by the bed with care,
In hopes that St. Jeff soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their curtains,
While visions of sugar-chickens danced in their biceps.
And mother in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the pillow to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
flopped open the shutters, and slopped up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-century to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a hairy ps4, and eight tiny turtles.
With a little old driver, so lively and black,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Jeff.
More rapid than fish his turtles they came,
And he whistled, and juggled, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! Now, Jeniko! Now, Xbox 1 and Vixen!
On, Dude! On Orangatan! On, Undie and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the xbox 360!
Now squirt away! Squirt away! Squirt away all!"
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 bed St. Jeff came with a bound.
His eyes -- how they flirted! His dimples, how long!
His forearms were like beasts , his leg like a kfc!
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the underwear, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his bum aside of his earlobe,
And giving a nod, up the bed he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a bart,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good year!"
Not a creature was stirring, not even a gorilla.
The underwear were hung by the bed with care,
In hopes that St. Jeff soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their curtains,
While visions of sugar-chickens danced in their biceps.
And mother in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the pillow to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
flopped open the shutters, and slopped up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-century to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a hairy ps4, and eight tiny turtles.
With a little old driver, so lively and black,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Jeff.
More rapid than fish his turtles they came,
And he whistled, and juggled, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! Now, Jeniko! Now, Xbox 1 and Vixen!
On, Dude! On Orangatan! On, Undie and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the xbox 360!
Now squirt away! Squirt away! Squirt away all!"
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 bed St. Jeff came with a bound.
His eyes -- how they flirted! His dimples, how long!
His forearms were like beasts , his leg like a kfc!
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the underwear, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his bum aside of his earlobe,
And giving a nod, up the bed he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a bart,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good year!"
