Posts Tagged ‘poem’

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Thursday, December 23rd, 2010

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the apartment,

 Not a silverfish was stirring, not even a varmint.

 The bug traps were laid by the foot of the bed,

 In hopes that the insects will soon be all dead.

 The girlfriend was nestled all snug in my bed,

 While visions of electronics and gold danced in her head.

 And a smoke in my hand, and gin in the other,

 I had just settled down and couldn’t be bothered.

 When out in the alley there arose such a clatter,

 I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.

 Away to the window I flew like The Flash,

 Tore open the blinds and broke the lamp with a ‘crash’!

 The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

 Gave light to the hobo smoking crack down below.

 When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

 But a rusted old shopping cart loaded with beer.

 With a little old driver, so homely and sick,

 I knew in a moment it couldn’t be St. Nick.

 More rapid than eagles his followers they came,

 He whistled and shouted and called them by name.

 Now, Derrick! Now, Eric! Now, Phil and Bill!

 On, Craig! On Meg! On, Jimmy and Jill!

 To the top of the bin! The empties they leave!

 Now drink away! Drink away! As fast as you please!

 As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,

 When they meet with an obstacle, they choose to get high.

 So up to the house-top the coursers they climbed,

 With a cart full of empties, were they stupid or blind?

 And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

 The thumping of foot steps which sounded like proof.

 As I drew in my head and was loading my gun,

 In came the little man, who was in for ‘No fun’.

 He was dressed all in rags, from his head to his shoes,

 And his clothes looked out-dated and he smelled of booze.

 With a bundle of cans he had flung on his back,

 And he looked like an addict who had just smoked some crack.

 His eyes – how blood-shot and red! His pimples how merry!

 His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a berry!

 His droll little mouth was drawn-up like a bow,

 And the crusted old beard on his chin was as white as the ‘blow’.

 The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

 And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

 He had a broad narrow face and a little round belly,

 That shook, when he laughed, gosh he was smelly!

 He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

 And I laughed when I saw him, and pee’d a little myself.

 A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

 Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

 He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

 “What the hell?” I said, “Get out of here you jerk!”.

 And laying his finger aside of his nose,

 He shot the snot out, which landed on my toes.

 He sprang to his cart, to his team gave a whistle,

 And away they all flew like a nuclear missile.

 But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

 “The aliens are coming!” And “Who wants to fight?”