T'was the week before Christmas, and all through the town
Not a faerie was caroling, on the streets, not a sound
Neither hither nor tither did festivities grip
And t'were no echoes of gifts being gift
The elves and the gnomes lay asleep in their beds
No thoughts of revelry nor candy were to swim through their heads
Except for one elf, and her motley pack
Who sought to spread jolly all over the map
So her and her own went out to the town
To see what kind of merry bash to throw down
Their goal was to let the faeriefolk know
What seeds of joy holiday spirit could sow
But then there came a wrench in the works
One of their own, ready to lurk
And acheive his goal, such as it was
To steal some fresh pastries, from Haven with love
And thus as it was he worked on his plan
While outwardly seeming as one of the band
He instructed his servants to work to spread cheer
While he, himself, kicked his plan in high gear
He waited until the elf was away
Spreading merry and giving reasons to play
To quietly enact his dastardly scheme
Although, really, it was more petty than mean
He crept down the chimney, like a famous character
Except, instead of girth, he used high tech plungers
So quickly down the archaic smokestack he stole
Through the soot and the dust, he haphazardly plowed
One eye on surviving, both on the prize
Which lead to his fall which lead to a cry
but in the end, make it he did
So he dusted himself off and readied his bib
And made his way to the elven kitchen
And end of the road, and goal of his mission
To act like Santa in the stories of old
To hungrily devour the cookies of gold