THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
by Clement Clarke Moore
Tweaked by TILTED
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, they were all drunk and soused;
The stockings were hung by that ho over there,
In hopes that St. Nicholas would soon find HIS pair
The kids were asleep, Nyquil gone to their heads,
While visions of excess kept them in their beds;
And mamma in her teddy, climbed in my lap,
We had just settled down for a long winter's *cough* nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew flashing my ass,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my traumatized eyes should appear,
But Santa bent over, exposing his rear,
That jolly old boozehound, so nauseous and sick,
I knew by the stagger it must be St. Nick.
Slower than the Post Office his charges they came,
And he whistled, then mumbled, and muttered their names;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
Come On, Comet! OFF Cupid! leave, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
Slowly they plundered, not as hurricanes fly,
Creating new obstacles is easy when high,
So up to the house-top the reindeer they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, dragging St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The thudding and stumbling of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nick came hurling all round.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished stained to his boots;
A bundle of toys he was dragging in back,
He looked like a druggie all strung out on crack.
His eyes -- were all hazed! his expression amazed!
His cheeks still all rosy, his nose chimney-grazed!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin full of vomit and snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The broken half wedged twixt his butt cheeks;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
Reaking of booze, his breath was quite smelly.
He was chubby and plump, that drunken old elf,
I couldn't help laugh when he knocked over a shelf;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
He moved very slowly, but I knew he wasn't dead;
He spoke not a word, trying to focus on his work,
Realized they were his stockings and hissed "you jerk",
And wiping the soot from the side of his nose,
He flashed me the finger and up the chimney he rose;
He crawled to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a downed Cuban missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he swerved out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, I had a good-night."
