A retelling of the famous Clement Clarke Moore poem
as it would have happened with the Doctor
By Pippin Strange
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
All the creatures were silent, even a wee mouse;
The stockings hung by the chimney as always,
Hoping St. Nicholas would frighten sounds away.
The children were nestled so cold in their beds,
While visions of faces whispered in their heads,
Mama sound asleep, and I watched the time,
Had just settled down to keep alert for a sign-
When outside arose such a crash on the ground,
I heard an engine, like a hydraulic sound,
Then 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 clear London snow,
Gave the luster of normalcy to objects below;
When, what to my wandering gaze should pan,
But an old 50s Police Box, and out the door, a man;
With a little brown suit, a bow-tie, and glow-stick
I knew in a moment it was not St. Nick.
He bound up the yard, through the door he came,
Though it was locked, he laughed, and called me by name:
"Now Tom, what's the matter? You may call me the Doctor!
I've heard of your creature, I've come to save you the trouble!
Is it on your porch, or in a crack in your wall?
Now lead the way, Tom! You can tell me all!"
As surely as I stood, he'd discovered our woe,
A nasty mean creature, an invisible foe;
In the living room, kitchen, and corners it flew,
Giving us nightmares – and my children, too:
With eyes all a twinkle, the Doctor did stay,
And said to the thing, "Now little alien, pray,
Why trouble humans, and mess dreams around,
When there's plenty of planets where you can be bound?"
The creature materialized, pale skin head to foot,
With clawed fingers and fangs the color of soot.
Though I'd never seen it, I knew it was there
And thanked God for the Doctor showing up in thin air.
No time for glee, the creature was hideous,
And with a scream, a fire lit its eyes bulbous
Out of it's mouth came a poisonous smoke,
But I say, this Doctor, was a "prepared" old bloke.
The stump of a stick he held in his hand tightly,
Was actually a screwdriver, of the sonic variety.
He gave him fair warning, and when it didn't listen,
The screwdriver whirled, and with eyes a glisten,
The Doctor shed a tear when the alien burst
Into a green light and disappeared like one cursed.
But with a wink of his eye shake of his head,
Told me it was gone, that I had nothing to dread.
He said, "Not a word, to the kids or at work,
No need to worry them," then turned with a jerk,
And clapping my shoulder, and twitching his nose,
Bid me farewell, checked the chimney, then rose.
He left my house, to the blue call box outdoors,
And stepped inside, with an engine wind-roar,
But I heard him exclaim, as it vanished out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Merry Christmas to all, indeed! From your one and only Pippin Strange! I've been thinking of making this a series. Anyone else keenly interested in other famous works of poetry that the Doctor could perhaps invade, intervene, or otherwise tamper with, and that I could post for your pleasure? =)
Leave a review and let me know!