Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Variations
Version 2007.1
Part 6 of 50
January 7, 2007

Compiled by: Matthew Monroe

Archived at: http://www.alchemistmatt.com/twas/

Contains 849 versions of the classic poem, including headers from most of the posts and credits when available. The versions range from innocent and cute to vulgar and obscene, so read at your own discretion. I have collected most of these versions by searching the newsgroups using Google Groups and the now retired Deja News. I'd be happy to receive any additional versions you might have.

See the Main Index for the complete contents.

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Short Title: AVLV(AltVacationLasVegas)

   Author:   Royal Flusher
   Email: royal@flusherville.com
   Date: 1998/12/22
   Forums: alt.vacation.las-vegas
   
'Twas the night before Christmas, in AVLV
Not a Vermin was stirring, not even Da-vee.

The stockings were hung from our laptop with care,
In hopes that St. Nickle-as soon would be there;

The posters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of RFB danced in their heads;

Both Ma and I in our kerchiefs and caps
Were just headed down for a long run at craps.

When out by the buffet there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from our room to see what was the matter.

Away to the elevator I flew like a flash,
Past the slot club, the front desk, the cage filled with cash

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
A GMC Yukon drawn by posters in Cocktail Waitress gear,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than Fastest Cash, his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, McPilot! now, Mowbie, Plumber and Vixen!
On, Monaco, Adamant, Donnie and Frixen!

To the top of the slots lined up by the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dollar bills that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the Strat the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of gifts, and St. Nickle-as too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard in between deals,
The prancing and pawing of little high heels.

As I drew in my chips, and was turning around,
Down the escalator St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed in a T-shirt, and shorts so uncanny
A black leather vest, and a pack on his fanny

A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

He spoke of how hed bounced some mucky-muck
From posting of spam. Could St. Nick be Chuck?

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His hips swayed and swung, like a Mother Goose fairy

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And then I heard him say something like Oh oh oh

The stump of a stogy he held tight in his teeth,
Twas a cheap Honduran knock off wrapped with Cuban leaf

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowl of buffet jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
Hed fit in at the Copper Mine I thought to myself;

A wink of his eye and a pull of the lever,
And I hit triple bars and was a believer!

He spoke not a word, but performed his good works,
And handed out presents to gems and to jerks

There were rolls of quarters, nickles and dimes,
Comps for the buffet and passes for lines

Show tix and sports picks and slot points and smokes
For the players true odds, for the dealers big tokes

A dictionary for Strevel who, to be blunt
Had trouble to tell a cock from a rooster.

Psychoactive drugs for our pal George Webber
Who used to be Porchnoy but now hes better

An umbrella to hide Sonya and Dan-a
When theyre making out nude in the Hot Tub Tropican-a

A nice gift for a young Australian groom
An upgrade to a first class penthouse ROOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There were black chips pulled from the old mans purse
For every NG member who composed Haiku verse

For Phil Feld, free pulls on the ten dollar reels
For helping the NG with weekly room deals

A compass for Patti, who now sits alone
So she can find her way back to her old NG home,

Matt and Stinky were pleased with their haul
Coupons for breakfast and an inflatable doll

For Billhere, without whom it aint quite the same,
Something hes wanted for years  a last name.

Brenda the editor hid her gift from the lot
You must come to my web site to see what I got!

Some Pampers for Lisa, and a hole ridden raft
For the wankers at the casino that gave her the shaft

Gamblor and Greatbrit and Scott&Diane
Got a handfuls of chips  red, green, black and tan (?)

Eric Simandl wasnt forgotten
Santa paid bail for his next deal gone rotten

Santa whispered in Skips ear and laughing he went
To play the VP machines that pay a hundred and ten percent

A thesaurus for Berman, the tome writing Davy
Who might actually need forty ways to say gravy

A booklight for Ros, a new ID for McCall
A new server for Newkirk, who doesnt live here at all!

To the others Santa couldnt mention by name
A handful of greens, Merry Christmas just the same

We were all pleased with the gifts the fat elf brought
He had to be Chuck, thats what everyone thought.

He put down a meal comp Its for Chuck, OK?
He wouldnt show up unless I brought my 1K

A cold jug of Thunderbird left under the bed,
For the gamblers gambler, our own Lucky Ned

So who was Santa? Who had the touch?
To hand out gifts and say Thank you, thank you very much?

And buying a thousand game ticket,  Who knows?
Maybe Kenos my game! and up the chimney he rose;

He waddled to his sleigh, and his team gave a whistle,
And they all played the dont like the down of a thistle.

He bowed and waved and shook his pelvis,
Hey whaddya know, old Santa was Elvis!

Then we heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Merry Christmas from Vegas, and to All a Good Night!


Happy Holidays from the original Royal Flusher
Beware of substitutes.

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Short Title: AWCUSA(AltWarCivilUSA)

   Author:   Southern Witch
   Email: kfraser@erols.com
   Date: 1998/12/20
   Forums: alt.war.civil.usa
   
Christmas eve is just a few nights away now, and I've had at least one
request to re-post the following, which first appeared (IIRC) in 1996. It's
amazing how little things have changed since then. ;-)
---------------

'Twas the night before Christmas
When all through Web
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a Reb.

The threads were all hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that the Neos would forget they were there.
The pro-Yanks were nestled all snug in their beds
While theories on slavery danced in their heads.

And the RY* in his kepi and I in my cap
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap
When out on Usenet there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my Mac to see what was the matter.

Away to my modem I flew like a flash
And fired up my browser to download the trash.
The topics I saw as I started to scroll
Would seem most scholastic to unknowing souls.

When what should appear to my wondering eyes
But a new post from Mark and four hundred replies,
With a premise so tiresome -- "the slaves caused the War" --
That I knew in a moment the thread was a bore.

More rapid than eagles the epithets came,
And I groaned and I grimaced as I read out each name:
"Now, HWAYNE! now, Rambler! now, Maury and Simpson!
On, McMichael! on Bob Johns! on, Sullivant and Epperson!

No offense is too petty, no insult too small!
Now flame away, flame away, flame away all!"
As dry tomes that are in fierce argument cited,
When they contradict prejudices, are quickly indicted,

So over the top the combatants they went,
And the truth was forgotten as logic was bent.
And then, in a twinkling, I realized that thread
Said nothing that I hadn't already read!

As I drew in my breath and was poised to press QUIT,
Another rare flash of enlightenment hit.
It began as a thought, then became a conviction:
One fella's truth is the other one's fiction!

The various causes with which we have sided
Are making our little group sadly divided.
Our arguments so trite! our responses so measured!
No quarter is given on views that are treasured!

Our own little truths we hold deep in our hearts
And guard them like wolves, though they keep us apart.
Ill will and bad manners belong on the shelf,
And I smiled at that picture, in spite of myself.

In the wink of an eye, it came into my head
That being polite is not something to dread.
So I spoke not a word but went straight to my work
And removed from my post terms like "Nazi!" and "jerk!"

Then, laying my finger aside of my nose,
I hit the SEND key, and away went my prose!
But you will hear me exclaim, ere I drop out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to AWCUSA and to all a good night!"

*RY=Resident Yankee

Kathie Fraser

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Short Title: BackstreetBoys

   Author:   Jessica
   Email: i_loveaj@hotmail.com
   Date: 1998/12/07
   Forums: alt.fan.backstreet.boys

Twas' the Night Before Christmas, Backstreet Boys style

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
The Backstreet Boys were stirring, Howie ironing his blouse
AJ was busy trying to get gel out of his hair
In hopes that St. Nick Carter, soon would be there

Brian was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of playing in the NBA danced in his head
And Howie in his kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tripped on the rug, and nearly busted my ass

On the way to the window, I heard Howie mutter
But ignoring his gibberish, I opeded the shutter
Then what to my wondering eyes should appear
Than a jeep with a personalized license plate strung on the rear

With a tall, young driver, his hair blonde and slick
I knew in a moment it had to be Nick
More rapid then eagle's his footsteps they came
And he whistled, and shouted, and called us by name

Hey Brian, Hey Kevin, AJ, and Howie
Hey B-Rok, Hey Train, Bone, and Sweet D
At the top of the porch, he gave out a call
To tell us that he had returned from the mall

As Nick took off his gloves, he looked to the sky
But reaching in his pocket, he let out a sigh
He'd forgotten his keys, which he needed , he knew
So he raised his head and holled to the crew

If you didn't think he was dumb, here is your proof
When we ignored his cries, he climed to the roof
I could hear him stomping and prancing around
Then he fell down the chimney with a crashing sound

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot
But at closer inspection, 'twas all ash and soot
He was lying there, flat on his back
Then he let out a groan, opening his eyes a crack

His eyes were unfocused, but yer they were merry
His cheeks were all flushed, his nose like a cherry
I had descended the stairs, with Brian in tow
To find Nick under our stockings, all lined up in a row

AJ smiled and showed us his teeth
While Howie shook his head and said "Oh, good frief"
We attended to our Santa, while Brian scarfed down some jelly
That he found in the bags Nick brought home from the deli

My wee-little cuz was busy stuffing himself
Till I took his jam and stuck it on a high shelf
A wink of AJ's eye and a twist of his head
Noticing the fries in a container all colored in red

Howie spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And looked in the packages brought home by the jerk
With a point of his finger and a wrinkle of his nose
Howie displayed Nick's lack of taste in picking out clothes

Nick sprang to his feet and gave us a shout
So we started to sing to drown his cries out
But I heard him exclaim as we sang till the light,
"Merry Christmas To All, And To All A Good Night!"

PS:  Sorry I dissed Nick, but it rhymed.  Don't take itpersonally, it's only
meant for a joke  (_8^(l)  <----- Homer Simpson

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Short Title: BarquePictonCastle

from http://www.picton-castle.com/page85.html
December 25, 2001

'Twas the Night Before Christmas On the Barque Picton Castle
  By Pasha Greathead 

'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the barque
Not a cockroach was stirring
(and, boy was it dark!) 
The ditty bags were hung
In the forepeak with care
In hopes that Santa
Soon would be there 

The daymen were nestled
All snug in their beds
Visions of marlin spikes
Danced in their heads 

The 8-12 watch
Had taken the deck
And Tom Ward was scowling
And giving them heck 

Up in the fo'c'sle
I'd hung up my knife
And just settled in 
For the short pre-watch night 

But out on deck
Arose such a clatter
I leapt from my rack
To see what's the matter 

By the baleful glow
Of the starboard running light
I beheld a strange
And terrible sight 

Nine tiny reindeer
Were tangled aloft
Kicking and bleating
And starting to cough 

The sleigh full of gifts
I saw not a sign
(It was tangled astern
In the distance log line) 

And where's St. Nick?
To complete this story.
He's peering over the side
Of the half-finished dory 

Helping him down
From the galley rooftop
He grimaced as he caught
Sight of the disaster atop 

We set straight to work
And hauled in his sleigh
Santa grabbed his gifts
And started on his way 

Treatises on seamanship
He left for the mates
And for the cats
Some freshly caught bait 

The 8-12 watch scrambled
Up to the yard
And freed all the reindeer
(It wasn't that hard) 

The reindeer slid down
The mainsail so white
Bleating and kicking
They seemed quite all right 

On the Bosun's door frame
Was carefully hung
A beautiful stocking
Full of sew twine and mung 

A big tub of grease
He explained with a laugh
An awfully good present
for the king of PFAFF! 

The Captain too
Not to be forgotten
A nice new sarong
Of Indian cotton 

Santa went forward
And into the salon
He passed out his gifts
And then he carried on 

A big present here
A little gift there
Copper nails for Kim,
Sheet music for Claire 

Up into the fo'c'sle
Presents small and large
A guitar string for Rigel
Sail twine for Marge 

He carried on outside
One more to go!
A bag of coal to the galley
For the cooks, don't ya know 

The reindeer were ready
In line on the hatch
The sleigh was all dry
It's a magic sleigh, natch 

Santa leapt in the sleigh
It was a beautiful sight
Rudolph's nose was aglow
Like the port running light 

The reindeer reared up
All snug in their traces
And leapt off the deck
(Just missing the braces) 

And I heard him yell
As he flew off more quickly
Fair winds to all,
You square-rig mickey-fickies!! 

Unless otherwise protected, all
content, images, layout and design 
Copyright  1997-2001 
Windward Isles Sailing Ship Company

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Short Title: Baseball(Braves)

From: Guess Who? (hoowee@braves.net)
Subject: The Braves and the Curse of the Murph 
Newsgroups: alt.sports.baseball.atlanta-braves
Date: 2003-10-18 16:03:59 PST 

The Curse of the Murph

Twas the night before game 6 and all through Underground
not a ballplayer was stirring, not even at the pitchers mound
their bats were all honed by the twilight with with care in hopes
that a championship victory would soon be there

The fans were all sleepless, not snug in their beds,
'Cause visions of Levon Hernandez danced in their heads
and Grandpa in his jersey and I in my cap
had just settled down vainly for a nap

When out on the lawn  there arose such a clatter
We sprung from our beds to see what's the matter
Away to the window we flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash

The moon in the sky behind the old oak tree
cast a glow of midday on all we could see
and to our amazement, who should appear?
but the ghost of "The Murph", his uniform very clear

My grandpa turned white, this is no lie
I  rubbed my eyes and looked at "The Murph" up in the sky!
Solemnly he spoke, telling the reason he came
"I was traded to the Phillies and that was a shame"

"The Murph" was the first to go,
but this was the blow
Then Justice and Grissom had been traded,
and now all you will hear is,
"Wait till next year"!

Thet loved him in Hotlanta, it was plain to see
so clear to all but T.T.
T.T. gave away a billion out of his purse
but it was not enough to break "The Curse"!

You know the story, the book of woe,
it started with Glavine and the strike he couldn't throw
My grandpa coughed and went for a beer,
his throat had gone dry thinking that the end is near

"C.Jones  and Klesco, so goes the tale
caused many a fan to wonder and wail
Onward they toiled to that "impossible trance"
just to face Hernandez gave them no chance.

"It was such a bore that I threw in some tricks,
like that glorious night know to all as "Game Six"
with Glavine it gave you a moment of glee,
But, alas twas Bobby who wouldn't pull him after three

A team should feel safe with such a lead,
yet October arrived and they were ready to bleed
take all prior visions, so twisted and bent,
Can't compare to thought of CHOKING again
at the "Big Event" !

"That this was so evil it was thought that the curse
had drawn to its climax, 'it can't get no worse'
but with no lessons learned they let go of Dale,
they traded him away and now they will always fail

"now, I had only to surpass that moment of pain
to give you another no Braves fan could sustain
with one strike away, on the edge of your seat,
Chipper Jones let the ball go through his feet"

"So that's why here in Hotlanta should you not sleep?
deprived of your victory, tomorrow to weep?
it's to remember the man who caused you the guilt,
and to ask why wasn't "The Ted" the house that Bobby built"?

Written after a Braves Choke Oct. 1997


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Short Title: Baseball

From: Mike Schmidt (mikeschmidt2000@yahoo.com)
Subject: Twas The Night Before Christmas 
Newsgroups: alt.sports.baseball.phila-phillies
Date: 2001-12-23 15:46:47 PST 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a Free Agent was stirring, not even a trade;
The Phans stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Jim Buck Jr. soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Giambi danced in their heads;
And mamma in her Phils T-shirt, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out in the living room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the computer so fast I almost exploded
Clicked past the screensaver and onto the forum.

The dates by the posts were growing quite ancient
Imparted melancholy tapering toward an exit.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an Ed Wade transaction sending Rolen a reminder,

With a slash of payroll here and a non-tender there,
Rolen knew in an instant that he would no longer be here.
More numerous than locusts his opponents they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called him sick names;

"You suck! You stink! You damn greedy bastard!
You don't like us? A battery for your left eye!
We love our billionaire Buck brothers and cutthroat Monty!
Now go away! Go away! Just get out of here sonny!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So on to the gym did Rolen fly,
Than into the cage with a sack of glistening Maplewood bats.

And then, in the cage I heard a crack from way back,
The sounds of a triple crown closer each hack.
As the ball sailed heaven bound I did turn around,
Only to see a smiling Steve Phillips, his payroll unbound.

Disturbed as I was I glanced to my left,
And what did I see but the Dodgers Dan Evans;
Stung by the momentum I spun away from it all,
Only to be confronted by Boston's Dan Duquette!

His shades--how they twinkled! The Boss was merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His look hiding a voracious hunger to howl,
With a huff he barked at Cashman "Invite Rolen to chow!"

Cold winds ripple across the Duck Pond,
The players of Merion flown south to Boca Raton;
The fire is stoked in Buck's Haverford palace,
Jim's poring over his portfolio with a look of malice.

Names abound such as ESPN, Airgas and Staples,
But in vain you search for A-Rod, Giambi or Hampton;
Buck's fondness for Giles he's not a lyin',
Alas for the Phans, he doesn't mean Brian;

When the markets went south Buck Jr. smirked with delight,
Three days before he sold short everything in sight,
And laying his thumb underneath his nose,
He waved his fingers toward the Phans as he rose;

He sprang to his Rolls, his brothers in tow,
And away they all flew like Dow Jones ho's.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A BULL MARKET NIGHT!"

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Short Title: Basic

Subject:      'Twas the night before Basic
From:         rife@inlink.com
Date:         1997/12/16
Message-ID:   <674nco$6gj$1@news1.inlink.com>
Newsgroups:   alt.fan.landmark


Howdy folks,

The newsletter for the local franchise of McTrainings "showed up" in my
mailbox today. Thought I would share something cute from it. Kudos to the
Blues towel man. Feel free to add verses. This could be quite fun.


Twas the Night Before Basic

Twas the night before Basic and all through the hotel
people were frantic and confused as well.

Fannies on fabric, quick get to the class.
Sit in your chairs or she'll chew out your ... !

This isn't a trick and it's not a stunt.
Just sit right there, and tell me what do you want!

The breaks were all timed just the way they oughta,
to reflect or pee, and drink lotsa watta!

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
she sent out the staff to see what was the matter!

There were three, maybe four, who arrived a little late.
But didn't know that they didn't know what was really at stake.

There was laughter and fun as we danced in our socks.
What a great feeling it was being outside our box.

I knew what I knew but you didn't tell me, you see,
that all of my answers lie deep inside me.

I'm not leaving the rest of my life to chance,
I can only imagine what we'll do in Advanced.

Has love in your life sometimes been omitted?
Well not anymore when you just become committed!

So go for broke, it doesn't cost very much.
You can share it with the world and everyone you touch.


:-D   Anyone want a Happy Meal?   :-D

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Short Title: Basketball(Jayhawks)

from http://kate.gulf.net/holidays/christmas/nightbefore.html

                      A Jayhawk Night Before Christmas
                                      
                 By John Steere (Your Humble Web Master), 
                  With Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore
   
         Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
               not a keyboard was stirring, not even a mouse.
   
            The game scores were hung on the web page with care,
             in hopes that more victories soon would be there.
   
             The faithful were nestled all snug in their beds,
             while visions of champions danced in their heads.
   
                 And mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap,
               had just settled down for a long winters nap.
   
              When out on Naismith there arose such a clatter,
             I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
   
                And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
               But the Jayhawk hoops players wandering near.
   
               And their cagey head coach, so lively and coy
                 I knew in an instant it could only be Roy.
   
               More Rapid than Tigers and Cowboys they came,
              He whistled and shouted and called them by name.
   
                "Now Jerod, now Jacque, now Billy and B.J.,
                   On, Pollard, on Raef on Ryan and T.J.
   
               Into the Fieldhouse, lets practice some ball,
                 Now dash away, dash away, dash away all."
   
                    Into old Allen the players all flew,
             and behind them came Roy, and three trainers, too.
   
               Around him they gathered to hear of his plan,
                  For an April trip to the Promised Land.
   
               He shouted and whistled, cheeks rosy and red,
             Through each of the drills to the players he pled:
   
      "More back screens, more free-throws, more rebounds, more treys
              You can't win it all if you don't run the plays.
   
              Come on, you're loafing, come on move your feet
             There're Tigers and Aggies and Cyclones to beat."
   
                In the doorway I perched all quiet and shy,
                 And knew if we won that this would be why.
   
           Paul Pierce leaped and soared high off of the ground,
               And thundered to earth with one more rebound.
   
                He fired it out to a waiting Jacque Vaughn,
               With a wink and a streak up court he was gone.
   
                  I saw Ryan and C.B. try to guard Haase,
             What more could one want for a Jayhawk Christmas?
   
            They sweated and toiled all that Christmas day eve,
              Without thought of quitting or rest or reprieve.
   
               And then in a twinkle Roy said they were done,
               "Let's go play a game and have some REAL fun."
   
             He sprang to the bus, to the team gave a whistle,
             And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
   
           But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight,
            "Happy Christmas to Jayhawks, to all a good-night."

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Short Title: Basketball(Spurs)

Subject:      The Night Before Christmas
From:         elliotspur@aol.com (Elliotspur)
Date:         1997/12/26
Message-ID:   <19971226200300.PAA26982@ladder01.news.aol.com>
Newsgroups:   alt.sports.basketball.nba.sa-spurs

                The Night Before Finals
     (I made this better but it was written by Mitch)
         (with apologies to Mitch the laker fan)

  'Twas the night before Finals, and all through the city
   Not a player was stirring, not even Vinny
   The plays were all drawn on the chalkboard with care,
   In hopes that a championship would soon be theirs;

   The Spurs were nestled all snug in their beds,
   While visions of a dynasty danced in their heads;
   AJ ate his gumble , and Tim wore his draft cap
   And they  settled in for a long evening's nap;

   When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
   Sean rose from his bed, to see what was the matter.
   Away to the window he 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 luster of midday to objects below,
   When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
   But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer!

   With a little Black driver, so lively and quick,
   He knew in a moment it must be "Saint" David
   Till now in the playoffs, the Spurs beat all who came,
   And David whistled and shouted, and called them by name:

   "Gone Rockets! Gone Utah! Gone Sonics and Lakers
   Gone Atlanta and Miami, 'cuz they aint nothing but FAKERS!"
   At the top of the standings, the best of them all,
   The spurs had squashed 'em, like a bug on the wall!

   Only one other team still had an eye on the ring,
   The Pacers from Indiania  where Reggie is King!
   "They're old and they're feisty, and they think it's their right,
   To win a  trophy, with a legend on  sight"

   And then, in a twinkling, Sean heard on the roof
   The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
   As he drew in his head, and was turning around,
   Down the chimney David-the-Quick came with a bound!

   He was dressed all in Black, from his neck to his knee,
   Trimmed only in Grey for all there to see.
   A bundle of gifts 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 chocolate, his nose like a cherry!
   His navel head glistened with a small bead of sweat, as he looked at
   them closely and let out a scream "I'LL MAKE THE SPURS
                IMPOSSIBLE TO DEFEAT!!"

   "For you, San Antonio Ill pull off a trade -
   to welcome BRENT BARRY we'll throw a parade.
   For you,Tim Duncan you will secure your wealth.
   For Sean, some Nerve, for Vinny some Health.

   "For Cory, there's patience...for his time will come.
    Those that can't see it, are really quite dumb!
   Malik gets more talent, and so does jackson
   Tim gets some Free Throws, now get ready for action!!

   "Chuck gets Playin Time, for Aj a SHOT,
   But I don't need nuthin, cuz I'm always HOT!
   And for Perdue my backup, a center  no doubt,
   Sorry, but here's hoping I never come out."

   He talked no more trash, but went straight to his work,
   He gave them their "presents", 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 team 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!!"

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Short Title: Basketball(UNC)

Subject:      UNC Forever
From:         "Canbob" 
Date:         1997/12/24
Message-ID:   <01bd10bb$6038b5e0$6fc157cf@prophet.bluenet.net>
Newsgroups:   alt.duke.basketball.sucks.sucks.sucks

Twas The Night Before ...
December 24, 1997

by Randy B. Young
(with apologies to Clement C. Moore)

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the Dome,
Not a worker was stirring, no one was at home.
The banners were hung from the rafters with care
In hopes they would sire another one there.

The fans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of alley-oops danced in their heads.
And I, just a humble old Smith Center clerk,
Had just cleared my desk of the last bit of work.

When out of the tunnel, there arose such a clatter,
I sprung to the stands to see what was the matter.
Away to an upperdeck section I flew,
And hunkered down low in my seat for a view.

The lights flickering on, one-by-one, for the show,
Gave the luster of game time on objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But the players and coaches all full of good cheer.

With a stately old coach with a Final Four strut,
That I knew in a moment it must be Coach "Gut."'
More rapid than eagles, his players they came,
Then he lined them all up and he called each by name:

"On Vince and on Brandon, On Brad and Shammond!
On Adde, on Maktar, on Ed and on 'Tawn!
To the top of the world, to the top of the key,
Now pass away, dribble, and dunk one for me!"

As all here before in the NBA fly,
When they meet in the lane and then mount to the sky,
So over the basket his athletes flew,
With a 360-slam and a "Tomahawk" too!

And then with a wink to his captains so subtle,
The coach sent the signal to gather and huddle.
I squinted to see and I harkened the sound,
When the coach entered into that group with a bound.

He was all dressed in sweats from his head to his shoes,
And his clothes were all colored of whites and light blues.
He waved 'round a clipboard he held in his hand,
Just like a conductor before a brass band.

His eyes, how they twinkled when talking of plays,
His words were as golden as morning's first rays.
His droll little mouth betrayed a sly smile,
If not for the years, then as sure for the miles.

The end of his whistle he held in his teeth,
And his silver locks circled his head like a wreath.
A new pair of glasses sat perched on his nose,
And they rode up and down as he uttered his prose.

He said something funny, that jolly old bloke,
Then he waited for someone to get his dry joke.
With a wink of his eye he gave Williams the "pill,"
And the players all knew it was now time to drill.

They spoke not a word, but for three hours they ran.
They worked "pressure zone," and they worked "man-to-man."
And all the while Bill and the coaches kept coaching,
From seats on the sideline, but never approaching.

Then, laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, from his seat he arose.
He sprang to his Nikes, his hands gave a "clap,"
And the players all drew around him in a snap.

"No practice tomorrow!" coach said with a grin.
"But the next day be ready to practice to WIN!"
Then astride from the court, the coach gave a cheer:
"Merry Christmas to all, and a Championship Next Year!"


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Short Title: Basketball

From: Rick Farrow (rickmo37)
Date: 2004-12-24
 
Basketball Legends Night Before Christmas
By Rick Farrow
 
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the gym
The games had just ended, beneath the rim;
The title was hung on the wall with great care,
In hope that more soon would hang there;

The players and fans had left me behind,
On their way to their homes with Christmas in mind;
And me with my broom and bleachers to sweep,
Figured a quick nap wouldn't risk my keep. 

When in through the gym doors there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my hideout to see what was the matter;
Out to the balcony I flew like a flash,
Tripped over my feet and fell with a crash;

When, what to my wondering eyes would appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and six players from yesteryear.
With a little old driver, full of such glee,
I knew right away it must be coach Jimmy V.

More rapid than eagles his players they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Pistol Pete! Now, Wilt the Stilt! Jay and Len Bias!
On, Ben Wilson! On Hank Gathers! You gotta help fly us!

To the center of the court! so we can play some ball!
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 to the jump circle, the coursers they flew,
The sleigh, the players, and coach Jimmy V. too;
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the floor,
Their sneakers a screeching and digging for more;

Wilt was a captain and drew up his team,
Of Jay and Len Bias, they still had their dreams;
Pistol's team had Hank and Wilson, who still wore twenty-five,
A three-on-three game was never so live.

Jimmy V. was the coach, still firey and taught,
And I was happy when I saw him and the memories he brought;
A wink of his eye brought more memories back,
To the glory of yesterday..."Go Pack!"... "Go Pack!;" 

He was once a young a coach, in a game that couldn't be won;
the buzzer sounded, his winning crowd surrounded;
As he ran to hug someone...just hug anyone;
The teams spoke not a word, but went straight to their game,
No one was a loser, no one was to blame;

The game was soon over, just after it began,
The players stood tall, each man to man;
Coach Jimmy V. motioned, as if wanting to say,
"Some take the game with them, some the game takes away;"

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!" 


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Short Title: BC3K

Subject:      Twas the night before Christmas (BC3K Style)
From:         bazPHD@aros.net (BaZ)
Date:         1997/12/24
Message-ID:   
Newsgroups:   comp.sys.ibm.pc.games.strategic

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the Cruiser,
Not a creature was stirring 'cause the games such a snoozer;
Diplomas were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Saint Taco soon would be there;

Commanders were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of detractors danced in their heads;
And MOTHER in her kerchief, and AI in his cap,
Went down to the HOLDING BAY where she danced in his lap.

When out in the ether there arose such a clatter,
That in one of the OUTHOUSES the walls I did splatter.
Away to the BRIDGE I flew like a flash,
A message was blinking, "To Continue, Send Cash".

This message was terrible it made me turn mean,
I took out my anger on the nearest COKE MACHINE,
When what to my watering eyes should appear,
But a miniature cruiser, and eight tiny queers.

With a woosh and a swoosh and the whiff of a fart,
I knew in a moment that it was Derek Smart.
More rapid than turtles his supporters they came,
And he broke all their ribs and he called them all names;

"Now FUCKER! now, JACKASS! now DUMBASS and ASSWIPE!
On Punk-Ass-Mutha-Fucka! on YAWNER! on BUGGY and GET-A-LIFE!
I am who I am, now let's have a ball,
A close personal relationship; bend over all."

The supporters they hemmed and they hawed and they cried,
They stood in the sauna their mouths open wide,
Then Saint Taco suddenly lost interest and said;
"Let's jump in the cruiser and spread bugs instead!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little poof.
As I drew in my hand and was turning around,
Down the chimney Ol' Derek came with a bound.

He was dressed all in leather from his head to his hocks,
He wore some old shoes but he didn't wear socks,
A bundle of bugs he had flung on his back,
He looked like a pimp who had smoked too much crack.

He was so full of crap that his eyes had turned brown,
He bragged and he boasted that he was the smartest in town,
His little mouth drooled as he ranted and raved,
He smelled of ammonia, his face was unshaved.

The stump of a crack-pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a sheath,
He had a toad face and his bowels were impacted,
A girlfriend, a car, (it's rollbars extracted).

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old twat,
And I laughed when I saw him, and his temper got hot.
A wink of his eye and a whiff of some mousse,
I then knew his temper was just a ruse.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Planting bugs in my PC, god what a jerk.
And snorting a line right up in his nose,
And passing some gas up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his cruiser, to his supporters he gave whistles,
And away they all flew like heat seeking moisture missiles,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove round the bend,
"Merry Christmas to all, (it'll be done this weekend...)

Merry Christmas to all BC3K online players.

BaZ
--

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Remove the PhD in my e-mail address to reply
Contact Derek Smart At: supreme_cmdr@bc3000ad.com or dsmart@pobox.com
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
See the Taco Supreme Commanders       | "Some areas aboard the
Head Grow So Big It Explodes!         |  BattleCruiser are currently
See Ayn Rand Grow A Mustache And Say  |  off-line due to refitting.
That She Loves Cleve at:              |  All systems should be on-line
http://www.aros.net/~baz/tacblow.html |  shortly." - Derek Smart, PhD
--------------------------------------|
         Now THAT Smarts!             |
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I'm not sure where you go (sic) this boyo,
 but it sho 'nuf didn't come from me." -D. Smart
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Short Title: BeanieBabies

From: Bret Wiersbe (bretwiersbe@mindspring.com)
Subject: Twas Two Weeks Before Christmas ... 
Newsgroups: alt.collecting.beanie-babies
Date: 2003-12-11 21:25:33 PST 

Twas Two Weeks Before Christmas ~ A True Holiday Tale

Twas two weeks before Christmas with rain coming down;
I had an important meeting, so I headed downtown.
The streets were covered with puddles, the ground was so damp;
I parked my SUV, then I walked up the ramp.

While I attended my meeting for an hour or two;
The temperature outside climbed to 50 .... plus two!
It was such a nice day with the sun and no rain;
I went for a walk ... down memory lane!

Christmas windows in stores all told a different story;
Marshall Field's featured Wille Wonka, and his Chocolate Factory.
So I wandered and wondered if other stores still existed;
Has Ty's product line survived and persisted?

Into the Palmer House I flew like a flash;
"I'll check out the gift shop and be out in a dash!"
And what to my wondering eyes should appear;
But a shelf full of Legs, Pinchers, Velvet, and bears.

Princess and Curly, Osito and Bucky;
Five years ago I would have considered myself lucky!
I didn't buy any since I have these already;
But they were piled so high, the shelf was probably unsteady.

I looked at my watch and turned with a jerk;
But I realized I didn't have to go back to work.
So I walked to my car and headed for home;
I thought about the city I once used to roam.

As I gazed in my mirrors, the city faded from site;
Merry Christmas to all, and to Ty a good night!


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Short Title: Beatles

From: Rand L Bruckner 
Sent: January 3, 2006

Magical Mystery Yule
(A Fab Christmas)
From http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/Beatlegs/message/47649

Twas the night before Christmas, but the spirit of Yule
Was not what it should be in olde Liverpool.
The stockings, all hung by the warm chimney grate,
Were still sadly empty. For Santa was late.

Yes, midnight had come and midnight had fled.
The children were lying awake in their beds,
Unable to sleep and beginning to fear
That Christmas was really not coming that year,

When off in the distance there came a strange noise
--Was Santa arriving at last with their toys?
Those surely weren't sleigh bells they heard from afar,
It sounded like drums---and electric guitars.

Now up in the sky, as the music drew near,
A strange silhouette began to appear.
Could those be reindeer? It seemed that they must,
But instead of a sleigh were they pulling a bus?

The reindeer drew closer, and yes, it was true,
Behind them a bus, all yellow and blue.
And out from the windows strange voices there came,
Which called out to each tiny reindeer by name.

"Now, Maxwell! Now, Martha! Now, Prudence and Pepper!
On, Sun King! On, Sadie! On, Jude and Loretta!"
The bus was soon landed. The slightest of pauses
Then out through the doors came four Santa Clauses!

But these weren't like Santas the children had seen,
For under the white beards their beads could be seen,
And clothing that wasn't just Santa Claus red,
But rainbows of dazzling color instead.

They all had long hair, some had curling moustaches,
And one of the four wore round little glasses.
They carried guitars, except for the one
Who staggered along with a full set of drums.

They spoke not a word, but as quick as a mouse
They carried their instruments into the house,
And, moving the Christmas tree out of their way,
They plugged in their amps and they started to play.

The room seemed to sparkle with magic and then
That sparkle grew brighter, then brighter again,
And exploded like fireworks, filling the air!
Then the stockings were filled; there were gifts everywhere!

But the four couldn't stay to admire the scene;
They sprang to their bus and were gone like a dream.
But their voices called out, as they vanished from sight,
"Merry Crimble to all!" and, "What a hard day's night!"


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Short Title: Beatnik

Subject: Beatnik Christmas
Date: 05/12/2004
From: john.biggin@sasktel dot sk.ca

Here is a portion of a parody called either Cool Yule or Beatnik Christmas. It was recorded with 
the blues/jazz theme from the television show 'Peter Gunn' playing in the background. I can 
remember most of the words but not all of them. There are a couple of verses in the middle that 
elude me.
- John Biggins

Beatnik Christmas

T'was the night before Yule Tide, And all through the pad.
Not a hipcat was swinging, And, that's nowhere Dad.

The kid's was all hung, on that stocking routine.
Hoping the fatboy would soon make the scene.

I was ready for snoresville, Man was I beat.
My main lady and I, were decked out to sleep.

(~possible missing verses~)

When I heard this here rumble that came on real frantic.
So I slid to the window, to figure the panic.

There was this sleek rod, a laying fast tracks.
Sup'ed up by 8 ponies, all wearing hat racks.

They were out of the shoot, making time like a bat.
And they rounded the corner in 8 seconds flat.

A screwy old geezer was flippin' his lid.
He told them to make it and man like they did.

They was up on my chimney in bunches and clusters.
Then Chubby slid down, coming on like gang busters.

Like he was from nowhere, the most absolute.
But lets face it, who cares when he left all that loot.

He layed the jive on me as he sprang from the gig.
Saying have a 'Cool Yule' Man. Later, like dig.

            ~~ Unknown ~~


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Short Title: Beavis

   Author:   Angus McSpank
   Email: spank.it@spuzz.net
   Date: 1998/12/27
   Forums: alt.tv.beavis-n-butthead

And now, a somewhat belated tribute to Clement Moore:

        'Twas the night before Christmas,
        and all through the house,
        ev'ry creature was spanking
        his one-eyed trouser mouse.

        The stockings were hung
        like a horse.

Happy New Year!

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Matthew Monroe in Richland, WA

Last Modified December 15, 2010