A visit from lil' St. Chris

A Bastardization of a Poem

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse

The stockings were hung by the windows with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there

The duo were nestled all snug in their beds,

with visions of sugar-plums and parfaits dancing in their heads,

And Maria in her blinders, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a short night's nap,

When out on the rooftops arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the curtains and threw up the sash.

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

Gave a lustre of midday to the city below,

When wat to my wondering eyes did appear

A miniature sleight pulled by… two strange rein-deer

With a short silver driver all lively and quick,

I knew in a moment- "Wait, isn't that Chris?"

More rapid than eagles her pullers they came,

And she whistled, shouted, and called out their names:

"Now Hamster! Now Pigeon!

To top of the balcony! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

"Chris-chan isn't this a bit excessive!?"

"Less talking, more pulling Rudolph!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky:

So up the the housetop the pullers they flew

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas(?) too-

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of two pairs of relic boots.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney ("We don't even have one of those how did you get in here-") St. Chris came with a bound.

She was dressed in all fur, from her head to her foot,

And her clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot:

A bundle of toys she had flung on his back

And she looked like a peddler just opening her pack.

And her eyes- How they twinkled! ("Oi! Stop staring already!") Her dimples, how merry! ("Seriously!")

Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry

Her pouty little mouth drawn up like a bow,

The (fake) beard on her chin as white as the snow

The stump of a pipe held tight in her teeth ("It's a fake pipe alright!?"),

And the bubbles, it encircled her head like a wreath,

She had a round face and a cute little belly ("Stop staring! Seriously!")

That quivered when she shouted, like a bowl full of jelly

She was lithe and slender, a sprightly little elf,

And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself:

A shrug of her shoulders and a twist of her head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

She spoke not another word, and went straight to her work

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk

And laying a finger aside of her nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose ("No seriously where did that chimney come from-" "Hush Maria, don't question the Christmas Magic")

She sprang to her sleigh, to her team she gave a whistle

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard her exclaim, ere she drove out of sight-

"Merry Christmas to All! And to all a good night!"

Yes, this is horribly out of season.

Yes, this is also a horribly done bastardization of a poem.

Do I care? No, not really.

Because when the brain demands that the words must flow, then the Words Mus w.