T'was the night before Christmas, and without any reason
I was at home bemoaning the season.
"The stockings weren't hung by the chimney with care!"
I exclaimed, flailing my arms wildly in the air.
The pets were nestled all snug in their beds,
or anywhere else they could rest their lazy heads.
Someone in the kitchen, rattling some pans
and the tv was blaring, disrupting my peaceful plans.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I rolled out of my chair to espy the matter.
Off of the floor and towards the window I made my way,
To see what was going on and clear up my day.
The moon hidden from view by the night's dark clouds
Hid what would soon reveal itself to be someone making his rounds.
Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
I tried to avoid the sight but my gaze drew ever near.
Towards a little old driver, so old and there without cause,
I resigned myself to the idea that it was Santa Claus.
Lazier than beached whales his reindeer did sit,
And he whistled, and shouted, and they didn't move a bit.
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Get up off your arse and move anywhere at all!"
They didn't respond, or acknowledge his call,
It was as if the man were adressing that unscaled wall.
So by my window a reindeer did wander, then leaned into a slouch
I regretted, completely, getting up off of my couch.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard at the door
a heavy-handed knock, accompanied by a cough that sounded like a roar.
As I hung my head, and let out a sigh,
I knew that old man had approached and hadn't passed by.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
He stank of cheap gin, some whiskey and beer,
When i opened the door he staggered, the cigarette dropping from behind his ear.
His eyes-how blood-shot! his face was haggered and worn!
The first thing he spluttered, he told me how he wished he'd never been born!
He ate some cookies from his pocket and swigged back his gin,
The cookies crumbs were suspended in the white beard on his chin.
He picked up his cigarette and asked for a light,
He took a drag and then told me that "Silk-Cut-Whatever taste like sh*te"
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
His clothes has un-named stains and were kind of smelly!
"Call me a taxi, i know the way back home
All i want is to be left alone.
I'll be back later to fetch my deer,
Tell those damn kids not to go anywhere near!"
He spoke not a word, then sat in the hall,
He kept telling me "to make that damn call"
And laying his finger inside of his nose,
He coughed some more as the smoke arose.
The taxi arrived and sounded it's horn,
He walked outside, i was glad he was moving on.
He made it to the curb and gave a final pathetic call,
"Merry Christmas to you! To one and to all..."