Twas the Night Before...

A Christmas Poem

'Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat

The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat

The doors were all bolted, and 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 poor 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 mangy reindeer.

With a fat little driver, half out of his sled, A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.

Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite.

And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.

Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa 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 its bladder.

I was donning my jacket 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, I'll just stay here awhile.

He walked to the kitchen, 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 a six pair of panties, the edible kind.

A bra without nipples, a penis extension, And several other things that I shouldn't even mention.

A cock ring, a G-string, and all types of oil, A dildo so long, it lay in a coil.

This suff 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 tucked 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 the reins of his hitch, Take me home Rudolph, this night's been a bitch!

The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout, The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!
 
Twas the 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 glassala tay
And zayerah pickles with bagels, oh vay!
Gezunt and geschmack, the kinderlach felt
While dreaming of tagelach and Chanukah gelt.


The clock on the mantelpiece away was tickin'
And Bubba was serving a schtikala 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 yarmulke greeted my eyes.
Then he got to the door and saw the Menorah,
"Yiddishe kinder," he said, "Kenahora.
I thought I was in a goyisha hoise,
But as long as I'm here, I'll leave a few toys."


With much geshray, I asked, "Du bist a Yid?"
Avada, mien numen is Schloimay 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 gagessen.
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 tish,
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 Sedar."


More rapid than eagles his prancers they came,
As he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
Now Izzy, now Morris, now Yitzak, now Sammy,
Now Irving and Maxie, and Moishe and Mannie."
He gave a geshray as he drove out of sight:
"Gut Yomtov to all, and to all a good night.
 
hristmas Jokes - “Twas the night before Christmas” (Politically Correct)

“Twas the night before Christmas”

(Politically Correct)

‘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 that looked darned stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;

The ruts were termed dangerous by the E. P. A.

And people had started to ring for the cops

When they heard loud noises upon their rooftops.

Secondhand smoke from his pipe had workers all frightened.

His fur-trimmed red suit was judged `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 whole nation,

Demanding millions of bucks for `just’ 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 exposes kids to dirt.

Dolls were said to be sexist and should be passé

And Nintendo would rot your poor 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.
 
twas the Night Before Christmas (dog version)


It was about time for Christmas, and all through the house
A creature was stirring, but it wasn't a mouse
I knew right away it was my wife's little pup,
She thought we were sleeping, and so she was up

The dog was a gift it was coercion, really,
A woman can pout, 'til a man gets downright silly.
And now the wife was snoozing she was really sacked out
She wouldn't have awoke from less than a shout.

Yes, her in her nightgown, I in my BVDs,
We had finally settled down to catch some Zs
When off in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
I rolled from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away down the hall, my head in a muddle,
I reached the kitchen...and stepped in a puddle.
The glow from a nightlight illuminated the room,
So how come I stumbled over the broom?

I fell in a sprawl, my legs were not stable.
On the way down, my nose hit the table.
My head was a spinnin' and when I came to rest
Four miniature dog feet stood on my chest.

With a lick and a bark, she bounded away,
Into the living room, she ran to play.
More rapid than mouses, that rat terrier ran,
Me on the follow, rolled newspaper in hand.

"Stop, Skeeter! Stop, Dog! Stop, Pup!
Halt, Pooch! Halt, Girl! Oh, come'ere, you mutt!
"Get off the new couch! Now let go of that curtain!
Ohhh...If I ever catch you, you're gonna' be hurtin'"

As winds of a Texas tornado do fly,
She spun round the room, down low and up high.
Then up on the countertop, that puppy went
She stopped for a second. I thought she was spent.

I make a quick lunge, she ducked me and then
Yawned when I dove through the flour bin.
As I drew out my head and was turning around,
She made for the presents, in a single bound.

I was covered with flour, from my head to my toes,
My robe in tatters, and blood on my nose.
A bag full of toys, she grabbed with glee
I nabbed her, I thought, but instead got the tree.

The ornaments, they broke, as they began to fall
The lights, how they fizzled, and that is not all.
When I reached for the plug, to turn the bulbs out,
What flowed through my body, but electricity, so stout!

As smoke encircled my head like a wreath,
That dog held my big toe, tight in her teeth.
"Skeeter," I moaned, "I give up. Oh, Skeet, I give in."
So she bit my swollen nose, and nipped at my chin.

She spoke not a word, but went back to work,
Down came the stockings it took just a jerk.
Then up from the hall, came the sound of feet,
Momma, it seemed was awake from her sleep.

"Now you'll get it pup," I announced with glee.
Then Skeeter walked over and put her little head on my knee.
She looked up at my wife - so innocent - and at me, so, so sad.
And it didn't take long, to know I'd been had.

Then came the wife's voice, so strong and so clear,
"Bill, you leave that puppy alone! You hear!"
And I exclaimed to myself, as they walked out with a strut,
"Don't leave any gifts, Santa just PICK UP THE MUTT!"
 
'Twas the Night Before Christmas: Reckneck Version

'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!
 
'Twas the Night Before Chrismas: Brooklyn Version

'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, ''Ay! 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!''
 
Twas the Night Before Christmas: Texas Version

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!''
 
Twas the night before Christmas (Military version

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defences 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 defence.

When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter;
I increased 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 sleigh bells, 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 defences we've carefully made.

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!
 
Twas the Night before Christmas - Clown Version

’was the night before Christmas
and all through our towns
The birthday King has summond His clowns

Clowns to bring joy in the midst of the night,
Clowns to share happiness for children’s delight.

With strange colored hair,
and size seventeen shoes,
with pants so baggy,
and red noses too.

Pockets stuffed with balloons
for bears, dogs, and sword;
Happy birthday we sing
with tricks to the Lord.

We juggle, we face paint
and make puppets dance
For love and perfection
we take every chance.

Christmas trees and mangers
Toys and clown cars
with slapstick and stickers
we follow the star

With gifts of treasure
wrapped is flash paper and a bowe,
the darkness gives way,
to a soft Christmas glow.

The parade passes by
and with our jokes, walkabout;
sadness and sickness
we now trun about.

For the Father has proclaimed
as we clowns come to play;
Merry Christmas to all
and my Son, ... Happy Birthday.
 
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Twas The Night Before Christmas, And Santa's Pissed

Twas the night before Christmas
old Santa was pissed,
He cussd out the elves
and threw down his list.

Miserable little brats,
Ungrateful little jerks.
I have a 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
And the reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk
and goosed all the maids.
Donner is Pregnant
Vixon has AIDS

And just when I thought
That things would get better,
The IRS,
They sent me a letter.

They say I owe taxes,
If that aint damn funny..
Who the hell ever
Sent Santa any 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
with no request for them
They want computers and Robots,
They think I am IBM

If you think that is bad
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,
The parents think I'm weird

Flying through the air,
Dodging the trees.
Falling down chimneys
And skinning my knees.

I quit this job,
There is just no enjoyment
I'm going to sit on my fat ass
And collect unemployment

There is NO Christmas this year
Now you know the reason
I found me a blonde
and heading SOUTH for the season
 
'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE SOLSTICE

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

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

We'd welcome 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 dree it all up like a seasonal stumpet.

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 mu 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 cellur phones.

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

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

"Now Donder, 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 this 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 here 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 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 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 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 powerm 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 its unnatural figure and airheaded grin,
This trollop make 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 had 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, goddness, 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've 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 chimmney like smoke from a fire,
And up on the rooftop 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 her 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 expoiter of elves?
"Happy Christmas to all, but get over yourselves!!"
 
’Twas the Night Before Christmas
(Another Ebonics Version).


Wuz da 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
Dat ol’ Sanna Claws
Be bringin’ ar check.

All o’ de fambly
Wuz layin in de beds,
Whilst Ripple and Thunderbird
Dance tru’ dey heads.

I passed out inna’ flo
Right nex to my Maw;
When I herd sech a fuss,
I thunk, “It mus be da Law!”

I looked out thru da bars
What covered my do’,
’Spectin da sheriff
Wif a warrent fo’ sho.

And what did I see,
I said, “Lawd, look at dat!”
They was a huge watta’ melon,
Pulled by giant warf rats!

Now ober all de years
Sanna Claws, he be white;
But looks liken us bros
Gets a black Sanna dis nite.

Faster dan a po’lees car,
My homeboy he came;
He wupped on dem warf rats,
An’ called dem by name!

“On Leroy, on ’Lonzo,
And on Willie Lee,
On Sapphire, on Chenequa,”
Dey wuz a site to see!

As he landed dat watta’mellon
Out der in da skreet,
I knowed it was fo’ sho’
Da damdest site I ebber did see.

He didn’t go down no chimbley,
He picked da’ lock on my do’;
An’ I sez to mysef,
“Shit! He done dis befo’!”

He had dis big bag,
Full of presents I ’spect;
Wid Air Jordans and fake gold
To wear roun’ my neck.

But he left no good prezents,
Jus’ started steelin’ my shit;
Got my drugs, got my guns,
Even got my burglar’s kit!

Wit my stuff in da bag,
Out da winda he flewed;
I woudda’ tried to catched him,
But he stoled my ’nife too!

He jumped on dat wadda’mellon,
An’ wipped 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 Claws
Jus’ ain’t werf a shit!
 
and the serious one that I love... (moongoddess this one is for your marine :)

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for 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.”

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.
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