Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Variations
Version 2007.1
Part 17 of 50
January 7, 2007

Compiled by: Matthew Monroe

Archived at:

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.


Short Title: Florida1

Subject:      Santa in Florida
Date:         1997/12/10
Message-ID:   <>
Newsgroups:   muc.lists.frua-dev

 Santa In Florida

 Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town
 No noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down,
 No children in flannels were tucked into bed,
 They all wore shorty pajamas instead.
 To find wreaths of holly was not very hard
 For holly wreaths grew in every yard.

 In front of the houses were Daddies and Moms
 Adorning the crotons and coconut palms.
 The slumbering kiddies were dreaming with glee
 That they would find waterskis under the tree.
 They all knew that Santa was well on his way
 In a red Thunderbird instead of a sleigh.

 He whizzed up the highway and zoomed up the roads
 In a snappy convertible peddling his loads.
 As he jumped from the car he gave a deep chuckle
 He was dressed in Bermudas with an ivy league buckle.
 There weren't any chimneys, but that caused no gloom
 For Santa came in through the Florida room.

 He stopped at each house, stayed only a minute
 As he emptied his bag of the toys that were in it.
 Before he departed he treated himself
 To a glass of Papaya juice left on the shelf;
 Leaped into the car and put it in gear
 And drove over bridges, singing with cheer.

 But we heard him exclaim as he went on his way
 "Merry Christmas, sunny Florida, Wish I could stay !"



Short Title: Florida2


                         Twas A Florida Christmas 
         T'was the night before Christmas and all through the town,
               no noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down,
               No children in flannels were tucked into bed,
                   They all wore shorty pajamas instead.
               To find wreaths of holly, t'was not very hard,
                 For holly trees grew in every back yard.

                 In front of the houses, Dads and Moms were
                   Adorning the bushes and coconut palms.
                The sleeping kiddies were dreaming in glee,
                 Hoping to find water skis under the tree.
               They all knew that Santa was well on his way,
                  In a Mercedes-Benz, instead of a sleigh.
                  And soon he arrived and started to work,
                   e hadn't a second to linger or shirk.

             He whizzed up the highways and zoomed up the road,
                    In a S-L 300, delivering his loads.
                  And lighted the way for old Santa below.
             As he jumped from the auto he gave a wee chuckle,
           He was dressed in Bermudas with an Ivy league buckle,
           There weren't any chimneys, but that caused no gloom,
                 Or Santa came in through the Florida room.

             He stopped at each House....stayed only a minute,
                 Emptying his sack of stuff that was in it.
                  Before he departed, he treated himself,
                 To a glass of papaya juice upon the shelf.
               He turned with a jerk and bounced to the car,
                He shifted the gears and stepped on the gas
                  And up Highway 436 he went like a flash.

               And I heard him exclaim as he went on his way,

                        Email: Written by Gill


Short Title: Florida3


   'Twas a Florida Christmas
   (Version 1)
   By Glenn Danforth
   Copyright 1996 - Glenn Danforth - All Rights Reserved
   'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Brevard,
   The natives were swimming or mowing the yard;
   The charcoal was piled by the hibachi with care,
   In hopes that half keg soon would be there;

   The children were nestled in our Jacuzzi,
   As the vodka began to make me feel woozy;
   And mamma in her bikini, and I in my thong,
   Realized a diet could do us no wrong;

   When on the front lawn there arose such a clatter,
   I crawled off the hammock to see what was the matter;
   Our friends had arrived, dressed for the pool party,
   Arms filled with gifts, and a case of Bacardi;

   The moon on the breasts of my wife's best friend Ann,
   Made me thankful for my pool, and that I'm a man;
   When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
   But a mini van packed with tourists so queer;

   With a little old driver, so obnoxious and mad,
   I knew in a moment his directions were bad;
   More rapid than eagles his curses they came,
   And he spit, and shouted, and called me weird names;

   "You Dasher! You Dancer! You Prancer! You Vixen!
   You Comet! You Cupid! You Donder and Blitzen!"
   Directions I offered, before he got hotter,
   "Head east," I informed him, "and ignore the water."

   As the van-full of tourists drove off to their death,
   Uncle Bill filled the air with his putrid breath;
   "Gather 'round children," he said with such glee,
   "The real Santy Claus ain't got nothin' on me";

   And then, in a twinkling, he climbed on the roof,
   Drunk once again, and acting the goof;
   As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
   Down the chimney he came with barely a sound;

   He stood semi-naked from his head to his foot,
   Wearing only his stockings and ashes and soot;
   A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
   And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;

   His eyes, they were crossed, his gait was unsteady,
   He smelled of cheap whisky, his nose like a cherry!
   The children were ushered outside with much speed,
   As we filled him with coffee, so much did he need;

   We knew it was Christmas, 'twas the same scene each year,
   Uncle Bill would get faced, and fall on his rear;
   He had a small head and a humungous belly,
   That shook when he laughed like an ocean of jelly;

   The weight of a rhino, the height of an elf,
   I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
   A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
   Soon gave us to know we had something to dread;

   He fell off the sofa and went straight to his work,
   And filled all the stockings, then called me a jerk;
   I grabbed for his car keys, and called him a cab,
   He tried to nail me, but missed with his jab;

   The taxi came quick, it seemed like a week,
   And away Billy drove, barely able to speak;
   But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
   "Happy Christmas Brevard! Hey, can I drink on this flight?"


Short Title: Florida4


   'Twas a Florida Christmas
   (Version 2)
   By Glenn Danforth
   Copyright 1997 - Glenn Danforth - All Rights Reserved
   (This version of 'Twas a Florida Christmas was written for my
   homemade 1997 Christmas cards. It was my way of letting my friends and
   relatives know in a humorous way what was new in my life. Most of them
   didn't know I was married only 5 weeks earlier and that I would soon
   be a father again. This was my way of breaking the news of the many
   shocking changes, including the biggest one of all: we had become
   vegetarians. (That news was particularly crushing to my Uncle Al who
   could no longer buy me the traditional Danforth Christmas gift; a
   membership in the Weenie of the Month Club.) All though it was written
   for a specific audience I decided to post it here. I hope you enjoy it.)
   'Twas Florida Christmas, in the Danforth house,
   I wrapped my bride's present: maternity blouse.
   The wheat buns were piled by the gas grill with care,
   In hope meatless burgers soon would be there.

   Mosquitoes were nestled, all snug in their trees,
   With encephalitis, a horrid disease.
   Kelly in my T-shirt and I in my sweats,
   Were cursing Drew Bledsoe, and our stupid bets.

   When out on the porch there arose such a clatter,
   It scared me so much I grew even madder.
   Kel's girlfriends arrived for a baby shower,
   The Patriots fumbled, my mood it was sour.

   The dew on the leaves of our Christmas palm tree,
   Was it caused by the heat, or humidity?
   When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
   Salvation Army Santa, reeking of beer.

   "I'm here for the shower," he said with a slur,
   He gave us frankincense, some gold and some myrrh,
   "I followed the bright light, so where is the child?"
   I shrugged both my shoulders, as he became riled.

   Just as the Dolphins were breaking their huddle,
   I realized the light had been the Space Shuttle.
   "Our child is no savior," I said to Saint Nick,
   "But, thanks for the gold, now leave here real quick."

   He trekked through the woods in search of a manger,
   Ignoring the signs that warned him of danger.
   He yelled out so loud, "I will be back later,"
   And promptly became a snack for a gator.

   And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
   The gnawing of termites, I acted aloof.
   In walked my pal Jane, she is quite the looker,
   My new wife distrusts her, because she's a hooker,

   All dressed in fur, from her head to her toes,
   Unaware of the heat, or animal's woes.
   I heard the girls squeal and was turning around,
   Bledsoe was charged with an intentional ground.

   A bundle of gifts Jane pulled off her shoulder,
   Breast pumps and Pampers; a snap to the holder.
   A huge pooper scooper, to clean rover's slime,
   The kick missed by a mile, we'd have overtime. 

   The women all gorged on rich Christmas sweets,
   I wished I could dive, head first in the treats.
   Diet was shrinking my once rotund belly,
   Unlike the gut of my pregnant wife Kelly.

   But she will be skinny again come next May,
   While I'll pass for Santa way past Christmas day.
   But that was just fine, I muttered to myself,
   Better tall Santa, than a bulimic elf.

   I counted on Yule time, when wishes came true,
   A new car was riding on Patriot Drew.
   My chances were better to wear the Dutch crown,
   A fact that was proven--a Dolphin touchdown!

   We drowned all our sorrows, in a big fruit cake,
   We said bye to our car--my body by Jake.

   To make us feel better, we screamed to the night,


Short Title: Florida5

From: NanaBabe (skb632@aol.comdontdoit)
Subject: Twas the Night Before, Florida Style 
Date: 2002-12-16 16:49:50 PST 

The Night Before Christmas
    (Tampa Bay Style)
     J. Palmer King

    with apologies to
    Clement C. Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas,
  when all 'cross the Bay
Even gators awaited
  the sound of a sleigh;

The A/C's were on,
  all thermostats set low,
In hopes that St. Nicholas
  wouldn't miss the snow;

The children used blankets,
  first time on their beds,
While dreams of orange groves
  danced in their heads;

And Mamma in her two-piece,
  and I in my trunks,
Walked out to the sauna
  for a Christmas Eve dunk;

When out on the beach
  there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the pool
  to see what was the matter.

Off to the gazebo,
  my towel in hand,
Gazed out t'ward the Gulf
  'Cross the Sun Coast sand.

The sea reflecting
  a watery glass moon,
Gave the lustre of midday
  to grassy sand dunes,

When, what did I see, loyal
  Buccaneer fans?
But a sixteen foot hobie
  and eight large Pelicans,

With a little old skipper,
  a Captain with cause,
I knew in a moment
  it was Santa Claus.

More rapid than a gull
  his seabirds they came,
And he yelled and he shouted,
  and called them such names;

Now, we had to censor
  all of this little verse,
'Cause, let's face it, folks,
  How a sailor can curse!

"To the north panhandle!
  To the southern most Keys!
Now sail away! Sail away!
  Sail with the breeze!"

As wave crest that before
  the noon thunderstorm fly,
When they meet with the sea wall,
  mount to the sky;

So up to the boat house
  the scoop bills they flew,
With the boat full of toys,
  and Cap Nicholas too.

Then, after a ruffle
  and feathered wing beat,
Was the strutting and scratching
  of tiny webbed feet.

So I ran to the house
  and was looking around,
When through the lanai St. Nick
  fell with a bound;

He was dressed in cut-offs,
  and red flowered shirt,
And his flip-flops were covered
  with sand and dirt;

A bundle of toys
  he had flung on his back,
He was pale as a snowbird
  just beginning to unpack.

We all know old Santa
  in his Christmas glory,
So we'll skip the description,
  get on with the story.

With a wink of his eye
  as he secured the bow,
Soon gave me to know
  I would never know how;

He spoke not a word,
  but went straight to his work,
And filled all the crab traps;
  then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger
  aside of his nose,
And giving a nod,
  out the window he dove;

He sprang to his boat,
  to his crew shouted "Aye!",
And away they all sailed
  'cross warm winter sky;

But I heard him exclaim
  just before morning sun,
"Be back after New Year
  for winter vacation!"

 ~ NanaBabe  ~     


Short Title: Flu

From: Gwen Love (
Subject: OTP The Night Before Xmas - Flu Version 
Date: 2002-12-24 15:04:28 PST 

*Twas the night before Christmas - Flu Version*

Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
Every creature was sneezing
Including the mouse!

Twas the night before Christmas but what could we do?
The family had been struck down by the flu!
The children were nestled all snug in their beds.
While Tylenol and Sudefed cleared up their heads.

And me with my hot tea and he with a snack
Had settled in front of a big unwrapped stack.
When out on the lawn there was a crash and a clatter
I ran out the front door to see what was the matter.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear
A large man in a red suit yelling "oh dear"
"I've appointments all over," said the man who was fat.
"And now just look here, my tire is flat!"

We invited him in though we warned him of flu.
And waited for the Auto club to do what they do.
Then we wrapped while we waited, The fat guy was good!
We tried to keep up as well as we could.

At last we were done, and so was the tire.
The man he arose from in front of the fire
And we heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight.
"Merry Christmas to you and to you
 Ah ah ah CHOO!

Written by Donna Pryer during a very bad flu season!
Donna (wife to Ron and mom to the blessings 11)


Short Title: Football(Alabama)

From: Kennedy (jonbkennedy@yahoo.comnospam)
Subject: T'was the night before... 
Newsgroups: alt.books.dean-koontz
Date: 2002-12-01 22:11:40 PST 

Twas the night of the Iron Bowl, when all through the land,
not a Bama fan was smiling, especially Coach Fran.
His hopes were high that a bowl game was near
- oops, I forgot - no bowl game this year.

The rednecks were nestled all snug in their seats,
with Colt 45 cans scattered at their feet.
With Cadillac, Ronnie, and Brandon in the shop, 
you would've thought those Tigers would be easy to stop.

When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
that Torbush sprang up to see what was the matter.
When what to his wondering eyes should appear,
but a really short white guy outdoing Beard.

Campbell to Johnson again and again,
by the way have you heard that cheaters never win.
More costly than Means were the touchdowns that came,
as Auburn began to run away with the game.

Chizik whistled and shouted and called them by name,
"Now Dansby!  Now Rogers! Now Robinson and Thomas!
On Torbor! On Rosegreen! On McNeil and Willis!
Open up a can boys, and watch Fran head for Texas!"

And then in a twinkling, I saw on the tube,
Croyle and his friends were looking like boobs.
I think your recruits were understandably appalled,
when your announcer kept bragging, "This is Alabama football!"

But don't cry Bama fans, over your lost bounty,
for your next quarterback will be a walk-on from the county.
And you do have your "Tide pride", as you say,
but unfortunately "class" is not something for which you can pay.

And although you will one day forget this disaster,
until then remember to BOW TO YOUR MASTER!

WAR EAGLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BTW, isn't it Gayle whose sons go to Auburn and 'Bama?  That's the kind of
shit that will start a new Civil War.


Short Title: Football(AntiDallasCowboys1)

Subject:      *TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE ...........
From: (Bob Holder)
Date:         1997/12/24
Message-ID:   <67r3mt$1j98$>

This is for the Cowboy fans who run their mouths

Twas The Night Before The Playoffs
And All Through The Land
People Were Getting Nervous
Except Cowboy Fans.

The Pr Garbage Started Early
It Was Way Before The Fall
Started By Cowboy Bandwagoners
Madden And Summerall

The Team Won The Opener
And Then Headed South
While Its Loser Fans
Continually Ran Their Mouths

Emmitt Faked His Injuries
While Reducing His Stats
By Getting Stuffed At The Line
By The Leagues Doormats

Irvin Cried On The Sidelines
Without Any Pain
But The Dreadful Though
Of Being Without Cocaine

I've Thoroughly Enjoyed
The Cowboys Decline
Listening To Your Excuses
And Constant Howling Whine

For The Playoffs Are For Teams
Who Truly Have No Fear
Its Great That Losers
Like You Arent Even Here

The Games Are In Tampa
And New York Too
But No Game In Dallas
For Losers Like You

While The Rest Of The NFL
Continues To Laugh
The Only Thing You Got Is
Next Spring's Draft

And While I Write This Poem
And Have Your Ear
It's Great Listening To Losers Like You
Scream "Wait Till Next Year"

We Will Spend Christmas
Singing Fa- La- La- La- La
Enjoy The Playoffs, You Losers
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha


Short Title: Football(AntiDallasCowboys2)

   Author:   THE NFLGURU
   Date: 1998/12/22
   Forums:,,,      Visit the community!

  Twas the Night before Playoffs
Twas the night before the playoffs
and all through the league
QB's were licking their chops
at Kevin Smith and George Teague

At first Terry Donahue
was thought to be the man
but Mr Salary Cap was cheap
and got some goof named Chan

It was way back in April
I started to laugh
When the Cowboys reached
for Greg Ellis with the 8th pick of the draft

I laughed even harder
as the season got near
cause the Cowboys said
"Emmitt is really motivated THIS year"

Emmitt was stopped at the line
again and again
he's the answer to the question
Who is a washed up has-been??

They said it was Irvin
who would deliver the mail
he spent his time on crack
and should be in jail

Last year it was Anthony Miller
who would provide the thrills???
they got rid of him
and signed "MR. I.R" Ernie Mills

The Cowboys provided us
with a comedy of errors
ever since they talked smack
then got buried by the Bears

As the Cowboy bandwagoners
prepared for their loss
They remember draft expert Jerry Jones
Passing on Randy Moss

The Cowboy fans would boast
of their big start
Until town drunk Kerry Collins
ripped that defense apart

Then came Kansas City
with no post season hope
I toasted Champagne
and watched Dallas get smoked

They are Division Champs
the idiots would beam
until they looked at the schedule
loaded with doormat teams

OH, they beat the Redskins
and the mighty Eagles too
but that wont get you
to playoff round two

This Christmas while you sing carols
Put a fork in the Cowboys-HA HA HA HA HA.

Merry Christmas from
The NFLGURU 1998.........


Short Title: Football(Browns)

From: Brownstown (
Subject: 'Twas the night before the Browns game 
Date: 2003-01-05 00:48:36 PST 
Twas the night before the Browns game, when all through C-town
not a Browns fan was stirring, not even Jim Brown.
The beer was stacked in the fridge with care,
in hopes that 1:00 PM Sunday would soon would be there.

The children had their Couch jerseys on snuggled in bed,
while visions of William Green scoring danced in their heads.
With the old lady in her orange teddy, and Dwayne Rudd in his cap,
we ate our Kielbasa and bitched about Sapp.

When in the backyard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my brown Lay-Z-Boy to see what was the matter.
Like a Northcutt TD, I rose in a flash,
tore open the basement door, and hid my hash.

The Firebird covered with new-fallen snow.
Looked down the street, a Mopar in tow.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
8 Steeler fans wearing jerseys of Kordell the queer.

With big beer bellies, so ugly and sick,
I knew in a moment it, it was no Michael Vick.
More rapid than eagles, was approaching the game,
I whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Punk! Now Hick!
Now Herpes and Troll
On, Jason! On, Steeler Nation!
On, Jackass, Asshole!

Get off the porch!
Better run for the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"

If you've never seen a Steeler fan fly,
let him stare down the barrel as you look in his eye.
Over the neighbors white picket, they flew,
with pockets filled with food stamps, and penicillan too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard down the street
The running and sprinting of sixteen smelly feet.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the street, came running a hound.

He had brown shiny fur, from his head to his paws,
and his collar was orange, razor teeth in his jaws.
A bundle of Pitt fans he had flung on their backs,
and he looked quite amused as he ripped out their sacks.

His eyes - how they burned! His growl, how scary!
He spit out some flesh and women's lips that were hairy.
His snarling mouth dripped blood on the snow,
The last Steeler fan walking had no place to go.

The arms of the prior, he held tight in his teeth,
9 legs and a torso draped on like a wreath.
The last Steeler fan standing had a fat ole' belly,
filled with Iron City and a tube of KY jelly.

He once had made fun of the old Brownie elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, enjoying myself.
A bloodshot eye and a growth on his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke very poorly and couldn't find work,
even his own children think he's a jerk.
And laying his finger inside of his nose,
Dsiplaying the typical Steeler fan pose.

He sprang to his feet, to his boyfriends gave a shout,
And away they all flew, like when the bars let out.
But I heard him exclaim, as they drove out of sight,
Don't fuck with the dawgs, BT was right!!!


Short Title: Football(Buccaneers)

From: Pete (
Subject: Bucs victory poem !! 
Date: 2003-01-24 09:35:19 PST 
Got this from a buddy, enjoy.. Pete

By Lee Surrett
Adapted from, Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night of the big game, and all throughout Philly,
The Eagle fans were partying and running willy-nilly,
The Eagles were well coached, the field was groomed with care,
In hopes that the Buccaneers would soon be defeated there.

The Eagle players and their fans were all well fed,
As visions of the Super Bowl danced in their head.
The halftime performers were dressed in coat and cap,
While the singers were dancing and rehearsing their "Rap".

The sports writers and t.v. crews were full of idle chatter,
Telling the nation how the Eagles would turn the Bucs into spatter.
The Eagle players all ran out onto the field of play,
Confident that they would win and be a part of Super Bowl Day.

The Buccaneers now took the field with their coach looking plucky,
Veterans Stadium exploded as all Eagle fans heartily booed "Chucky".
His players were well prepped and ready to play the game,
He whistled and shouted and encourged them by name.

Chucky's eyes –how they twinkled! His dimples how merry,
But the way his face was contorted was really quite scary.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
The Buccaneer players knew they had nothing to dread.

The Bucs kicked off and the Eagles began to soar,
Within a few minutes they had made their first score.
The Buccaneers were dazed and really quite cold,
But they answered the Eagles by kicking a field goal.

The Eagles began to wonder what was in store,
As the A-Train rumbled into the end zone to score.
Now it was a pass from Brad to "Key" as the Bucs scored six;
The Eagle players and their fans knew they were in a hell of a fix!

The players grunted and groaned as they played the game,
But for the Eagles it was more of the same.
With the Buccaneer defenders playing with resolve and class,
The Eagles knew that they had to start scoring fast.

The Eagles flew down the field with a desperate try,
They had already poked Warren Sapp in the eye.
McNabb passed the ball in hopes of a quick score,
But the Bucs were ready and Ronde Barber took the floor.

Ronde grabbed the football and streaked up the grass,
The Eagle fans groaned, for they knew that the Bucs had kicked their "ass".
The Bucs and their fans went wild with glee,
For now the Super Bowl was awaiting them you see.

Since 1976 we have all suffered with the previous Buc teams,
But now Buccaneer fans everywhere can realize their dreams.
For it's on to San Diego our proud Buc team flies,
With hopes of kicking mud into the Oakland Raiders eyes.

Fight hard you Buccaneers and make us all proud as hell,
As we remember Coach McCay, David Lewis, and Ricky Bell.
We'll savor the moment and enjoy the Super Bowl "show biz",
With hopes of winning and proclaiming, "How sweet It Is".


Short Title: Football(DallasCowboys)1

From: BW (
Subject: Holiday Jones 
Date: 2002-12-19 10:56:53 PST 

By David Fleming and Clement C. Moore
ESPN The Magazine

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Jerry's house
Not a Cowboy was talking, not even Troy Hambrick -- that louse;
The jerseys were hung in the lockers with care,
In hopes that some real football players soon would be there.

The fans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Jimmy Johnson danced in their heads;
And Campo in sans-a-belt, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for an off-the-record chat.

When up on the screen there arose such a clatter,
It's the GM, whispered Campo, that's what's the matter;
Away to the highlights we flew like a flash,
Both of us tripping over Nate Newton's old stash.

There we watched T.O. dancing on blue turf,
The once-proud Cowboys now looking like Smurfs;
[He scored once, then he did it again;
SF left with a 31-27 win.]
When what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
But a Mercedes, with eight women in hot pants and cheer.

They had a weird-looking driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Jerry Jones -- we'll call him St. Slick.
More rapid than eagles his comments they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and seemed quite insane.

To the bottom of the standings! How far can we fall?
I'll fire them! Fire them! Fire them all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I read on the wire,
It was Norv Turner whom St. Slick wanted to hire;
I drew in my breath and uttered this sound:
Is there any way Jerry can run himself outta town?

He was dressed in a silk/wool blend, from his head to his foot,
And his rep as a GM was tarnished with soot;
Forty million in bonuses he had flushed down the drain,
"We couldn't even beat Houston!" he whimpered in vain.

His eyes -- how they sunk! His voice -- it did crack,
His team was about to lose 11 games in seasons back-to-back-to-back;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
One more injured lineman and this dude might blow!

"We quit against the Giants," he said, gritting his teeth,
And the smoke from his ears circled his head like a wreath;
"We've got no defense, our tackling is quite smelly,
And our offense couldn't run through a bowlful of jelly."

"Sure, Emmitt is still a great jolly old elf,
But his best performances are usually with Alf.";
St. Slick had a tear in his eye, his look seemed much harder,
What the hell was he thinking drafting Quincy Carter?

He spoke no more, but went straight to his work,
And attacked his coaches and roster with the usual knee jerk;
Laying his finger aside of his cheek,
He wished the Cardinals would come back to the NFC East.

Then he sprang to his Mercedes and I asked for a word,
Instead he paused -- smiling, he flipped me the bird,
But I heard St. Slick exclaim as he drove from the noise,


Short Title: Football(DallasCowboys)2

From: Rodney Parker (
Subject: The Night Before Christmas (LONG) 
Date: 2002-12-24 20:15:37 PST 
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through this group
Not a creature was stiriing, 'cept Coslet, (the poop).
The stockings were hung by the end zone with care
With hope that Coslet's offense might one day get there.

Rat was nestled, all snug in his bed,
While visions of blonde QBs danced in his head.
Another bad season, for many bad reasons,
We settled our brains for a long offseason.

When down from the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the film room, only to find
Goodrich asleep (as he is most of the time).

Continuing down the hall, I opened the next door,
Finding Antonio Bryant throwing a fit on the floor.
"Just give me the ball, I can do it, I swear!"
(Course Campo doesn't even know even he's in there).

I opened another, and what did I see?
A huge office that looked like an infirmary.
There were bandages and braces, and tape of all kinds,
And a sign that said "reserved for the offensive line".

The next door I opened revealed quite a sight.
It was Coslet, hard at work under a dim desk light.
His mood was intense, his concentration keen.
(No doubt drawing up yet another $#*@^&! Four-yard pass play to be $#*@^&!
Used on $#*@^&! Third and $#*@^&! Thirteen).

Behind the next door was Campo, exuding such glee,
Practicing game day decisions on Madden 2K3.
Farther down the hall I found the source of the noise.
It was Jerry Clause, bringing gifts for the Cowboys.

Why do we doubt him, it can't be that bad.
Why last year he got Glover, and Williams, and..Chad?
As the end of the 2002 season approaches,
He leans into the hall and bellows for the coaches.

"On Campo, On Zimmer, On Joe Avezzano"
"Hey! Where the hell's Coslet, that piece of horse-guano?"
"Y'all gotta go, get the heck out of Dodge"
"There's a new coach a-comin', and he needs a place to lodge".

You see, Santa Jones may have finally learned his lesson.
And if he has, we can include that as we count up out blessings.
For there is some talent here, but we'd love to see some more.
Especially on offense, THEN maybe we'll score.

I still think that Emmitt has gas in the tank,
And behind a decent O-line, those yards he'd still crank.
If Martin's the fullback we think he could be,
We'll find out for sure when he's good two good knees.

Bryant's a keeper, and maybe even Whalen.
When we finally get a QB, who knows where we're sailin'?
Now Hutch could be the guy, and Quincy, as well.
Face it, with this coaching staff, how could anyone tell?

On the defense, the ability of the line ain't certain.
And if we land a pass-rushing end, we sure won't be hurtin'.
While somewhat unknown, I like our linebackers.
They're certainly quick, and they sure ain't no slackers.

They criticize Nguyen, they say he's small.
But he always seems to be around the ball.
With Hardy on one side, opposite Dexter
They should be quite solid when we finally hit next year.

The secondary's young, and I get the feeling
That Roy Williams will be leaving more running backs reeling.
And you know, I don't think we'd find it a drag
If Santa Jones has a shutdown corner in his bag.

So fill a few holes, and let's see what goes
When a new coaching staff prepares the boys for their foes.
For some talent should be there with '03 approaching.
This team might be better, once we have better coaching.

So Jones rounded up coaches, and showed them the door.
"Don't let it hit ya where the good Lord split ya", he roared.
And I heard him exclaim as they rang Christmas Bells
"Merry Christmas to All! Show in Mr. Parcells".



Short Title: Football(DenverBroncos)

From: "Brent Wiescamp" 
Date: Fri, 24 Dec 2004 12:17:40 -0800 
Subject: 'Twas the day before Christmas 

'Twas the day before Christmas when all across the 'net
Not a troll is stirring, for fear of karmic regret
Bills, Ravens, and Jaguars are noted with care
In hopes a playoff berth soon will be there

The Broncos were all nestled all snug in their plane
As visions of a win were not *totally* insane
Don't pay attention to what M. Beg has said
Our playoff hopes are not completely dead

I hope to Jake his receivers look much fatter
So I don't have to scream, "WHAT THE #%$* IS THE MATTER?!?!!?"
Such colorful language is not tolerated
In Mom's house so it must be abated

The stadium lights on the breast of natural turf
Which gives Bell good footing through the D to surf
So what to my wondering eyes should appear
But long touchdown runs, and who knows, maybe a beer

With a big play offense, so lively and quick
Maybe the season won't leave me quite so sick
More rapid than eagles, Jake throwing the ball
As he whistles and shouts and calls them one and all

Now, Rod Smith! now Putzier! now Lelie and Carswell!
On, Reuben! on Nalen! on Lepsis and T. Bell!
To the top of our game! to the top of our play!
Let's play hard for sixty and not give it away!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
When Titans meet Al Wilson, mount to the sky
So down to the turf they are dropping like flies
With muffled sobs, and a few audible cries

And then, in a twinkling, I see on TV
The prancing and dancing of Champ Bailey
As I draw back in my chair and look closer still
I see Larry Coyer and in his face, iron will

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth
If he could, smoke would circle his head like a wreath
He schemes and plots to shut the Titans down
Another three-and-out gives Fisher a frown

On the sideline Mike looked like a jolly old elf
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread

He spoke lots of words, and went straight to his work
And discarded his play sheet; then turned with a jerk
And pointing his finger out onto the field
The end of the game, Jake simply kneeled

He sprang to the plane, to his team gave a whistle
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle
But I heard him exclaim, ere they flew out of sight


Short Title: Football(GreenBayPackers)

From: Johnny Blood (
Subject: Merry Christmas Trolls!!! 
Date: 2001-12-24 14:44:08 PST 

'Twas the night before Christmas and all thru the Net,
Packer fans partied and all the trolls were upset.
Our playoff tickets were lined up on the dresser with care,
In hopes that home field advantage soon would be there.

CrackerDog still lives at home, with no where to go,
He lost his cheap job, and now has no dough.
But in the corner it was lovely to see,
A dozen or so beer cans and a pile of butts in the shape of a tree.

His dad laid off from work and his mom on parole,
They each told stories of their last Super Bowl.
Then alluva sudden da house starts to shudder,
Ruxpin's on da roof and he broke da rain gutter!

He fell down the chimney and tries to start a fight,
As I hide behind beer cases, way outta sight.
Ruxpin lands in da fireplace scorching his hair,
On a busted-up orange crate still burning in dere.

He climbs outta da fireplace and I take a long look,
He's just like I expected, he looks like a crook!
With vodka-glazed eyes and a stomach like a bubble,
CrackerDog hands Ruxpin a beer, Kristy Kreme still stuck in his stubble.

Angry at the Packers, Brett Favre and the fans,
CrackerDog swore a few times before kicking beer cans.
But watching this old troll there was little to fear,
As he left his Commodore 64 for more cookies and beer.

He kills off a six-pack and belches with a smirk,
Then reaches for his keyboard ready to begin work.
While under his makeshift tree he started to set,
The most beautiful presents a sorry troll can get.

There's a new pastymatic and handgun for mother,
A Flow-Bee and some swampers for brother.
New mud flaps, a CB, and a used weedwacker,
Oh, and a 4XL nightshirt that says "Chicago Bears Forever!"

He read a few more posts then and reached for his clothes,
The sorry old troll, his temperature did rose.
He grunted and groaned as he left that chair with a sag,
Then cracked such a beer fart (Ugh! I'm starting to gag!)

He left his parents house so I rushed on outside.
He crawled to the garage, in the bushes I did hide.
And what do I see when I look through the twigs?
A rusted old Firebird, pulled by eight pigs!

CrackerDog jumped in and he gave them all hell,
"Let's go all you's trolls, don't just sit there and smell!"

"On Spike! On Duhve! On Ruxpin and Joe!
And you's others trolls what names I don't know!
Fly over Ashwabenon and turn to da right,
We must bomb Lambeau Field well before midnight!"

Dressed in blue and orange from his head to his toe,
CrackerDog wore a dirty old Starter jacket with a Super Bowl 20 logo.
Six cases of beer they strapped to Spike's back,
And just for good measure two bottles of Jack.

They each had a red face, and a very large belly,
No social life to speak of and disowned by their family.
A bottle of Vicadin, they then found in Duhve's shoe.
"Hey! There's someone who needs this much more than you!"

As they neared Green Bay, Duhve blew on his whistle,
The rusted old Firebird was hit by a Brett Farve missile!
Pissed at the world and more angry than you know,
The Ghost of Christmas Past urged their parents to "JUST SAY NO!"

They walked out of town with snow on their feet,
Each person blaming the other for their team's miserable defeat.
Then one troll said to the other with a sneer,
"Let's pull in at dat Blatz sign...we ran outta beer!"




Short Title: Football(Jets)

   Author:   richardhutnik
   Date: 1998/12/19
Here is a modification of the poem, "Twas a Night Before Christmas", Jets 98
style.  Enjoy =).
- Richard Hutnik

'Twas the Night Before a Jets' Christmas '98

'Twas the night before Christmas, lands close and lands far,
Not a competitor was winning, not even a Jaguars,
The standings were set and it appeared,
That the Jets had the AFC second sede, and it was clear;

The Jets fans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of the Super Bowl danced in their heads;
And ma in her Jets jersey, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on ESPN there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the TV I flew like a flash,
Turned up the volume and grew worried that it would not last,
The games would be tough with them being away,
I worried that travel would hinder their play,
When, before my wondering eyes was something major,
A man with a headset, and his key players,
With wins so big and winning so soona,
knew in a moment it must be the Tuna.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Vinnie now, Keshawn now, Meggett and Glenn,
On, Martin on, Chrebett on, Hall and the offensive linemen,
To the AFC championship! Get over the wall!
Now just win! just win! just win them all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So to the driveway they flew,
With the truck full of victories, and the Tuna too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the driveway
The shouting and cheering of each ready to play.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
In the doorway the Tuna came in, Superbowl bound.

He was dressed all informal, from his head to his toes,
And his clothes were covered with Gatoraid and snow;
A bundle of victories he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how intense! his heart on fire!
And the will to win that never tired!

His droll mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the hair on his head was as getting as white as the snow;
The stump of a mike was held tight in front of his teeth,
And the headphones encircled his head like a wreath;
He studied film and devised a gameplay,
That assured that winning would be at hand.

He was a champion, a driven old coach,
And I felt at peace when I saw him, and I felt I could boast;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And he filled all the stadium seats; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, and out the door he did go;
He sprang to his truck, 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,


Short Title: Football(KC_Chiefs)

From: blueraja (
Subject: A Chiefs Chistmas Wish 
Date: 2003-12-24 21:11:32 PST 
Twas the week before the playoffs and all through KC
The stands were all stirring and anxious with glee
The banners were hung from the railing with care
in hopes that a victory soon would be theirs

The fans were all nestled all snug in their seats
while visions of cheerleaders danced to the beat
Al in his coat and the team in their hats
had just settled down for a locker room chat

when out on the field there arose such a clatter
they sprang from their den to see what was the matter
Away down the sidelines they flew in a flash
preparing themselves for this end season clash

The sun shine made the big arrowhead glow
and gave a glimmer of hope to the masses below
when what to our wandering eyes did appear
but our glorious team and the fans they all cheer

With a clipboard and headset so shiny and slick
We knew in a moment it must be coach dick
More rapid than eagles the yardage they gained
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name

Now Morton! Now Tony!
Now Priest and Vonnie
On Mike and Dexter!
On Willie and Dante!
From 1 arrowhead drive we call the teams home
now dash away, dash away to the end zone

As the snap count ends the football does fly
they meet with blockers and run right on by
So off to the end zone their routes they flew
with a touchdown for six and and extra point too

A few plays later, the ball got a boot
The cheering and shouting was raising the roof
He tucked in the ball and turned quickly around
Then down the field Dante ran with abound

He was dressed all in red on his helment and shirt
and his clothes were all tarnished with grass stains and dirt
A gang of defenders were flung from his back
and he looked like a gymnast running sideways and back

His legs how they bounded his skills made them wary
He Jumped and ran so fast it was scary
The defense had rushers drawn up like a bow
And his path was clear up to the front row
The rubber mouthguard he held tight in his teeth
And cold breath encircled his head like a wreath
He had broad shoulders and a fierce little grin
he ran to the goalpost so that his team would win

The kickoff was straight a high bounding ball
And coach vermil shouted in spite of it all
A gleam in his eye and a nod of his head
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread

They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work
And pummeled opponents, then Dick gave a smirk
And laying his clipboard down by his feet
Then sheding a tear for the teams latest feat

He sprang to his feet, to the team gave a whistle
And away they all ran like a fast flying missile
And I heard him exclaim as they drove out of sight
"A bowl ring for all and for all a good night!"

Merry Christmas Everyone....


Matthew Monroe in Richland, WA

Last Modified January 7, 2007