Twas several nights before Christmas, when all through our street
Every creature was stirring, even the crow, that cheat.
The dogs were howling by the gate without a care,
In hopes that the St Bernard from nearby would pass without a snare.
The guards were nestled all wrapped and bound,
While visions of chappatis danced in their heads around.
And Mulan in her rug, and I with my mug,
Had just shifted in our seats to kill that annoying bug.
When out on the lawn there barked such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to shout “what’s 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 cement
Gave the lustre of mid-day trash lament.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature gardener, hoping for a beer.
There sat a fat old driver, neither lively nor quick,
I knew that moment it couldn’t be St Nick.
More slower than snails his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Basher! now, Dancer! now, Panther and Chicken!
On, Count-it! On, Stupid! on, on Gonner and Blitzen!
To the top of the roof! to the side of the wall!
Now dash away! Shoo away! Shoo, shoo away all!”
– Author unknown
Just a little humour to take the stress away from the preparations. For those of you caught up in the frenzy of family and visitors, cooking and shopping, wrapping gifts and overall panicking that you forgot a gift for someone, take a deep breath, step back, and remember that you are supposed to be enjoying yourself.
Pass the mulled wine!