Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Fort
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Kat,
The stockings were hung by the Hub with care,
In hopes that St. Mikey soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their bed,
While visions of "A Penny On The Train Tracks" danced in their heads,
With The Story Lover in his recliner, and the rest in our caps,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap...
When out on the Community Site, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my keyboard to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
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 the posts below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and a flock of dragons,
With a little drunk driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Jeff P.
More rapid than Garrett & Fred, his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Comsie! now, Brynmor! now Crazy Cajun!, now Eggy!, and Myke D.! On, August! on Akeentia! on, on True Fan!, on Black Paper!, and ACFan!
To the top of the Fort! to the top of the Café!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and story files too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Jeff P. came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of goodies he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled -- his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
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 face and a little round belly
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of 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,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his teams gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
With the help of Jeff P., I decided to bring an Old Fort Family Christmas Tradition. I hope you enjoy my take on this classic poem.
Thanks for the help, Jeff.
Comments are encouraged and appreciated. Just use the email address listed at the top of the page.