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.

Short Title: Gothic

from http://www.deadlounge.com/xmas/1998/index3.html

                         The Night Before Christmas
          With somber and tormented apologies to Clement C. Moore
                                      
     'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through our house
     was blasting the "St. Vitus Dance" by Bauhaus;

     Torn fishnets were draped on my forearms with care,
     And two cans of Aquanet applied to my hair;

     My thoughts were of graveyards, and horror and dread,
     Black visions of pain and despair in my head;

     And Bianca, whose face was as pale as the moon,
     Had thrown up her arm for this evening's swoon,

     When out by the gravestones there came such a clatter,
     I sprang from the coffin to find out the matter.

     Away to the window I flew like a ghost,
     Expecting to find a dark devilish host.

     The moon on the breast of the uncaring snow
     Threw ominous shadows on objects below,

     When, before my tormented eyes did traverse,
     But a gorgeous black Crane & Breed carved-panel hearse,

     With a gaunt, shrouded driver, who filled me with fear,
     And eight skeletal creatures that might have been deer.

     More rapid than vultures his coursers they came,
     And his deep Andrew Eldritch voice called them by name;

     Now, Murphy! Now, Morgoth! Now, Torment and Woe!
     On, Dreadful! On, Lovecraft! Mephisto and Poe!

     To the top of the gravestones where fog wisps its breath!
     With a weight on my soul I consign you to death!

     As dead leaves that before hellish hurricanes fly,
     When they flutter like giant bats' wings to the sky,

     So up to the crypt-top the coursers they leapt,
     While dearest Bianca, like death, still but slept.

     And then, to my horror, I heard on the roof
     The clicking and scratching of each bone-white hoof.

     As I drew in my arm, and was whirling around,
     Down the ebony chimney he came without sound.

     He was clad all in black, and he looked oh-so-goth,
     A billowy ensemble of crushed velvet cloth;

     His boots were knee-high, quite buckled and zipped,
     And the Spandex and fishnets 'round his legs were ripped.

     His eyes glowed with bluish fire, deathly and cold,
     A black eye-liner'd face neither youthful nor old.

     A broad lipless mouth drawn with torment and hurt,
     And his sorrowful face was as white as my shirt.

     A smoldering cigarette tight in his grasp,
     Its smoke curling eerily 'round his cloak clasp;

     His gaunt frame was topped with long ebon hair,
     And a sharp scent of brimstone and cloves choked the air.

     His arms were outspread in the shape of a cross,
     And I quailed when I saw him, feeling sorrow and loss;

     He narrowed his eyes with a twist of his head,
     And I felt the full weight of his angst and dread.

     He spoke not a word, but went straight to his task,
     Left some Dead Can Dance CD's; before I could ask,

     A single tear fell across his aquiline nose,
     And then, like an angel, up the chimney he rose;

     He sprang to his hearse, to his team he then hissed,
     And away they all drifted like early dawn's mist.

     But I heard him intone, ere he vanished from sight,
     "Gothic Christmas to all, and to all a good fright!"
     
                         Yes, it's a Crane & Breed
                             To DeadLounge.com
                             E-Mail Polarbeast


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Short Title: GratefulDead1

From: Forrest Cook (cook@stout.atd.ucar.edu)
Subject: A Very Jerry Xmas 
Newsgroups: rec.music.gdead
Date: 1990-12-20 21:21:37 PST 

A little Xmas cheer for all you netheads out there -
A Very Jerry Christmas, there'll be noel to pay when the Dead hit town.

***  A Visit From Saint Jerry  ***

Twas the night before a Dead show, and all through the town,
Not a ticket could be purchased, not a mushroom could be found;
The tie dyes were hung by the tape deck with care,
In hopes that the party soon would be there;
House guests were nestled all-snug in their bags,
with psychedelic dreams of all night dancing jags;
when out in the street there arose such a noise,
I sprang from my bed to see if it was the Inca Boys.

Away to the window I swam like a bass,
Tore open the curtains and fell through the glass;
The lights on the crust of the four-day-old snow,
Gave Denver the lustre of a Nuclear Blow;
When, what to my flashblind eyes should appear,
but an electric kool-aid bus, loaded with gear;
with a fat old driver, all spaced-out & hairy,
I knew in a moment, it must be THE JERRY!

More rapid than eagles, his followers came,
And whistled, and shouted, and called out by name;
"Play Truckin', play Terrapin, play Shakedown, play Mars!"
They came by the planeload, by foot, and in cars;
They filled up the sidewalk, and soon blocked the street,
They came by the thousands, most were named Pete;
All 'Round my house, the numbers of Dead Heads grew,
So I pumped up the Boom Box and served Chex Mix too!

And then, in an instant, I heard from the bus,
The banging and clanging of a mass exodus;
As I drew up my head and was turning around,
Out the bus door came Jerry in a transplendent bound;
He was dressed all in black, quite simply extreme,
His clothes were encrusted with pralines and cream;
A beat-up guitar was flung on his back,
He looked like your average rock music hack.

His eyes how they sparkled, all bloodshot with merry,
His cheeks were so rosey, we nicknamed him cherry;
As he grabbed his guitar and drew it up like a gift,
The air grew thinner, and the ground started to shift;
When he began to play, deftly moving his hands,
Everyone around me fell into a trance;
Then all of a sudden, something went 'bing',
And I too was doing the Go-Jerry Swing.

I swung on my venus and I danced on my head,
Feeling so Grateful, I had nothing to dread;
When Jerry played solo, it lasted an hour,
But I don't remember, I was rappin with a flower;
The band stopped playing, as quick as they started,
They hopped on the bus and graciously departed;
But I heard them all chant, as past me they hurled,
"Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world"
               _
(c)1990 Kenny Be, Westword Dec 12-18, 1990
reproduced without permission

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Short Title: GratefulDead2

From: Sunshine Daydream 847-299-2622 (sunshinedy@aol.com)
Subject: T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE A DEAD SHOW 
Newsgroups: rec.music.gdead
Date: 2003-12-23 18:07:40 PST 
 
'Twas the night before a Dead show and all through the place,
All the heads were dosed - just trippin' to space.
The joints were all rolled with precision and care,
With hopes that St. Stephen soon would be there.

The freaks were nestled all stoned in their beds,
While visions of Johanna danced in their heads.
With me in my poncho and her in my hand,
Just dyin to hear "Uncle John's Band."

When out from the stage there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
O' way to the stadium I flew with my stash,
I kicked down the gate - it fell with a crash.

the light from the orb, hanging so high.
Blinded me like I was Born cross Eyed.
And what to my red glossy eyes should appear,
A shadowed figure, could it be Mr. Weir?

No, too big to be Bob, too short to be Phil,
Could it be Mickey, Vince, or maybe even Bill?
He started to sing and the sound from his lips,
Assured me at once that he was Captain Trips!

His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry,
I exclaimed in excitement, "Oh Wow! It's Jerry."
I couldn't believe it - just Jerry and Me,
"Play something" I said. "Play Sugaree."

The Fat man jammed - he was on a roll,
With his sweet songs, he rocked my soul.
Jerry spoke once, and his message was plain:
"Gotta go now," he said. "It looks Like Rain."

But I heard him exclaim as he walked out of sight,
"Good Lovin' to all, and I bid You Goodnight."


Sunshine Daydream - 2027 E. Euclid Ave. Mt. Prospect, IL    -  847-299-2622
www.sunshinedaydream.biz


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Short Title: Guam

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM GUAM

Tis the night before Christmas
and Santa's relaxed.
Guam's surf is up--
Santa's surf board is waxed.

The Zories are hung
by the Aircon with care,
And the Kiddies all know
Santa soon will be there.

Once the tide goes out,
and he's through "hangin' ten"
He'll stop to see Barbara,
and Charlie, and Ben.

A snack's been prepared
by Becky and Sam.
It's that old island favorite:
Tortillas and Spam.

After giving out presents,
for his surfboard he'll reach.
Santa's parting remark will be
"Back to the Beach!"

He'll join all those tourists
who visit for fun.
When it comes to vacations,
he says, "Guam's number one!"

And you'll hear him exclaim
'ere he boogies away:
Merry Christmas to all,
And to all, "Hafa Adai!"

 

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Short Title: Guitars

   Forum: rec.music.makers.guitar
   Subject:  'Twas the Night Before the "Big Match" 
   Date: 11/15/1999
   Author: The Divine Ms. D 
   
   'Twas the night 'fore the "big match", when all through the house 
   Not a Feder was stirring, not even their mouse;
   SEF's boxing gloves were hung by the chimney with care,
   In hopes that Carl would soon meet him there;
   
   The Fiadinos were nestled in separate beds,
   While visions of Nicole Bass danced through Carl's head;
   Carl awoke at midnight, and put on his cap,
   And drove to Rochester to ambush SEFSTRAT;
   
   When out on SEF's lawn there arose such a clatter,
   He sprang 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 lustre of mid-day to objects below,
   When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
   But Carl in his Monte, with a six-pack of beer,
   
   With a red-headed driver, so lively and quick,
   SEF knew in a moment it must be that prick.
   More rapid than eagles his felines they came,
   Carl blew magic dust, and called them by name;
   
   "Now, Tabby! now, Tiger! now, Michael and Vixen!
   On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Findlay and Bluezzin!
   To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
   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 up to the house-top the troupe they flew,
   With Carl's magical felines, and his wife, Ginger, too.
   
   And then, in a twinkling, SEF heard on the roof
   The prancing and pawing of each little doof.
   As he drew in his hand, and was turning around,
   Down the chimney Carl came with a bound.
   
   He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,
   And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
   A bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
   And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
   
   His eyes -- how they twinkled! his profile how scary!
   His cheeks were like pineapples, his nose like a cherry!
   His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
   And the skin on his knuckles was as white as the snow;
   
   The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
   And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
   He had a broad face and a large round beer belly,
   That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
   
   He was chubby and plump, a right devious old elf,
   And SEF laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself;
   A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
   Soon gave SEF to know he had something to dread;
   
   Carl spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
   He came flying at SEF, stumbled and fell on the jerk.
   SEF thrusted his fist upside Carl's thick skull,
   And gave him a big shove against the wall;
   
   Carl sprang off to his Monte, to his cats gave a whistle,
   And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
   But we heard Carl exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
   "Up yours, Feder, I won the fight!"
   
   --Sharon
   
   http://members.aol.com/STRATQUEEN/index.html
   "Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by
   stupidity."

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Short Title: Guns1

Subject:      PIC Happy Holidays
From:         Nancy 
Date:         1997/12/11
Message-ID:   <34909F95.68B9@2die4.com>
Newsgroups:   talk.politics.guns,guns.rec


MERRY CHRISTMAS

`Twas the night before Christmas, cold, dark and foreboding,
As I sat at the work bench, quite busy reloading.
The empties from autumn were polished so clear
For primers and powder, and bullets from Speer

And Hornady's soft-points, and Nosler's Partitions
(MY bench ain't no place for brand name omissions!)
All sat in their boxes, right next to the press
With dies from Pacific, and RCBS

When all of a sudden there came such a jolt,
I grabbed for my Mossberg, and whipped out my Colt.
As I spilled Hodgdon's powder all over the shelf
I scrambled for cover, just to pro-tect myself

From up on the rooftop, came hoofbeats and snorting
Like the noise out of L'il Rock, from Clinton's cavorting!
I eased off the safety, to press-check my auto
With 230-hardball, I'd knock 'em all blotto

Were these rogue federal agents, sent by Schumer and Reno?
Or a staggering Ted Kennedy, in bad need of Beano?
My question was answered with a knock, and some sneezing,
"It's Santa, you moron, lemme in there, I'm freezing!"

I flipped off the dead-bolt and threw the door wide,
To find St. Nick a'shivvering, Rudolph by his side
He eyeballed my Springfield, with a nod of approval
"You're all set," he said, "for dirtball removal."

"But this is no raid, we're not here to harm you
Or persecute, prosecute or even disarm you"
Instead, said dear Santa, he needed to borrow
My .357, 'till day after tomorrow

"It's okay," he assured me, with a hint of frustration.
"I'm enrolled in the National Rifle Association"
He showed me his card, 'twas a Life Member rating
"I've had this since me and the missus were dating!"

"And you see, Dave ol' buddy, I've gotten real nervous
"Since Feinstein was elected, with a promise to serve us
"So henceforth as I'm out there, my presents a'stackin'
"I want to assure you, I'm legally packin'

"And my gift for you this year, should give you a hoot
"I've told the Supreme Court to give Brady the boot!
"Now, Rudy and I must be on our way"
He said, as he climbed back on the seat of his sleigh

With the reins in his hand, and my Smith in his pocket
He jingled the sleighbells and was off like a rocket
With a pair of speedloaders, and ammo to spare
I knew he'd be safe, he was loaded for bear

As he faded from view, I could still hear him calling
"From D.C., where 'P.C.' is already falling
"To bad guys in L.A., Detroit and Atlanta
"I'm licensed to carry. Don't be messin' with Santa!"
 

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Short Title: Guns2

Subject:      Christmas with the Greaseman
From:         the2belo@defl.bungmunch.edu (The 2-Belo (Meow))
Date:         1997/12/09
Message-ID:   <3495a091.7877437@decaxp.HARVARD.EDU>
Newsgroups:   alt.fan.karl-malden.nose,alt.butt.harp,alt.bite-me,alt.non.sequit
ur

(c) The Greaseman
Welcome to Blasterpiece Theatre, with your host, Sylvester Stallone.

'Twas the night before Christmas
and all tru da house,
Nuttin' was stirrin',
Not even a fuckin' mouse.

Adrian was....talkin',
Wearin' her cap.
I said, "'ay,
Shut yer yap."

Gotta move,
and I gotta move quick.
'Cause tonight I'm gonna blow away
Ol' Saint Nick.

Last year, I said 'Hey!
Bring a new weight set to try!'
Instead, he left
This polka-dot tie.

So as I sit
By the nativity scene,
I lock and I load
My mini-14.

What's that? Footsteps?
Reindeer, I hear?
I'll soon be pumpin' lead
Into Santa's big rear.

My finger's on the trigger,
I'm ready to go
At da sound o'dat first
Ho-ho-ho-ho.

He's in my chimney!
He starts to slide down!
Lemme reach in
And let off a few rounds!

[POW! POW! POW!]

[AAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGH!!!!!!!!]

My gun, it did quiver
With lead, it did chatter.
Across my lawn, reindeer guts
I did splatter.

Kill Dasher, Kill Dancer,
Kill Prancer and Vixen!
My barrel's so hot,
I'm doin' some schvitzin'.

So this Christmastime,
You better fend for yourselves.
I've blown away Santa,
Now it's on to the elves.


|=[The 2-Belo]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-[the2belo at alt dot net]=|
|       [flame/nose/cascade/meow/non.sequitur/alt.life.sucks]           |HFW:
|                [CASHP #32-97. Stop the human race!]                   |Died
|        HP: http://www.geocities.com/colosseum/stadium/7560            |Nov. 21, 1997
|PGP pubkey: http://www.geocities.com/colosseum/stadium/7560/pubkey.txt |Rot In Purgatory
|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
 


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Short Title: Guns3

   Author:   Citizen Ted
   Email: hamster@omit.nas.com
   Date: 1998/12/09
   Forums: alt.tasteless

'Twas the Night before Deathmass,
When all through the house,
Not and insect was squirming,
Not even a louse;

The pistols were hung
By the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Prickless
Soon would be there;

The fringies were nestled
All smug in their beds,
While visions of manslaughter
Pranced in their heads;

And Lorri in her nightie
While Carrot took a crap,
The freaks settled down
For a long winter's nap;

When out from the alley
There arose such a clamor,
Sharv sprang from his rest
With a black ball peen hammer;

Away to the window
He stumbled, still drunk,
Tore open the shutters
And puked up a skunk;

The moon on the teats
of the grimy white snow,
Made Sharvey think
'Twas still midday -- hello?!

When, what to my rheumy
Red eyes should appear,
But a broken-down Volvo
And eight scummy reindeer;

With a fat filthy driver
And his miniscule dick,
I knew from the odor
It must be St. Prick;

Bedraggled and beaten
His reindeer they came,
And he burped and he farted
And he called them by name;

"Now ASSHOLE! now, BASHER!
Now, FAGGOT and VIXEN!
On VOMIT! On STUPID!
On RICHARD M. NIXON!

"Get up off your asses!
We'll sneak past the wall!
AT'ers we'll blow away
Blow away, Blow away ALL!!!!"

But the fringies were ready
And armed to the max,
They had sensed trouble
And prepared to attack;

So out to the windows
With weapons they flew,
And spotted the Volvo
And St. Prickless, too;

And then, with a twinkling
I heard from outside,
A grunt and a whisper
As the Prick tried to hide;

My Colt in my hand
I motioned around,
When through a window flew Prickless
All 300 pounds!;

He was dressed all in Tommy
From his cap to his Vans,
And he grasped a revolver
In his fat grimy hands;

A bundle of ammo
He kept in his pack
And he squeezed off four shots
Nailing Kruge in the back;

His eyes -- how they rolled
His body -- it twitched,
As all AT guns fired
On the fat sumnabitch!;

His droll little mouth
Was screaming in pain
As Hank blasted buckshot
Again and again!

The stump of his arm
Squirted blood on his teeth
And gunsmoke encircled
His head like a wreath;

The fringies got closer
And knifed open his belly
And toyed with his entrails
Even though they were smelly;

He was yet still writhing
Like a fat roadkill elf,
And I laughed when I saw him
In spite of myself;

With a wink of his eye
And a twist of his head,
Nurzy pronounced
The fat fucker dead;

He spoke not a word
But went straight to his Hell,
And left us his ammo
Seemed all had went well;

His corpse in the fire
I held shut my nose,
And with petrol and prodding
Up the chimney he rose;

We laughed and we chortled
And passed 'round some gin
Recounted the killing
Then retired and tucked in

As the ashes rose coldly
A voice pierced the night,
"Happy Deathmass to All,
Don't give up the Fight!"

  - TR
  - gettin' that frosty glow in my (butt)cheeks.


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Short Title: Halloween1

Date: 31-OCT-1996 11:51:21.47
Subj:	Oracle's Nightmare Halloween Bash

        'Twas HALLOWEEN!

'Twas Halloween night as I leaped from my bed,
With thoughts of amusement going through my head.
Turned off my computer and thought as I may
Of vampires of old and vampires of today.
Of spooky old movies and Halloween parties,
Of course trick or treating
(hope they don't hand out Smarties).
And witches and ghosts and gravediggers, I fear,
So that old haunted house, I will never go near.
When you see spooky places, just take my advice,
And don't go in rooms filled with ghosts, bats, and mice.

So don't risk your life going looking for spooks,
Just go to a party with some good friendly kooks.
Or gather your family, carve a pumpkin and think
What to have your kids do, and go pick up a drink.
Tell a joke to your friends, but be careful, you'll see
That a couple wrong moves might mean eternity.

Now put on that costume and dress yourself up.
You can be Ninja Nun or that RCA Pup.
But be very careful or else you might see
That ghosts and vampires aren't really PC.

So now you can think, as you turn out that light
That there's no such thing and that you are all right.
Look under your bed, though, and then you might see...

Nothing!  We aren't afraid of ghosts now, are we?


-------
Happy Halloween from the Oracle Service Humor Archives!

Happy hauntings,
-Steve
      _
    __||_
   / o o \
  |   ^   |       \\|//      		       THIS MESSAGE IS HAUNTED BY
  ||-v-v-||       (o o)             THE ORACLE SERVICE HUMOR MAILING LIST
~~\ \^_^/ /~~~oOOo~(_)~oOOo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   -------

WWW Site:
-------------
http://www.synapse.net/~oracle/Contents/HumorArch.html


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Short Title: Halloween2

From: Henry W. Moritz (moc.ishcm@ztiromwh)
Subject: Twas Halloween Night 
Newsgroups: alt.adoption
Date: 2003-10-27 13:27:42 PST 

With abject apologies to Clement Moore or Henry Livingston Jr....
or whoever wrote "The Night Before Christmas"

Twas Halloween Night

'Twas Halloween night and all through the house
The creatures were stirring and starting to rouse;
Bowls full of candies were set by the door,
In hopes that some children would venture in for;

All day our children had slept in their tombs,
While dreaming of witches aflight on their brooms;
And mamma in her gown and I in my cape,
Finally emerged from our daylight escape,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the crypt to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a bat,
Tore back the drapes and crouched like a cat.

The moon shown brightly through the crisp autumn air
and easily rendered any prey that was there,
When, what through my glittering eyes should I see,
But eight snotty teen-agers with rolls of TP!

With a drunken boy driver, dressed up like Lestat,
I guessed these were kids from the school at St. Pat.
More rapid than weasels his little friends came,
And he hissed and he whispered and called them by name;

"O'Hara, McKonkle, Smith, Martens, and Nixon!
Go throw the TP with Maher and Dixon!
On the top of the porch and all over the trees!
Then throw some old fruit and large eggs if you please."

Dry leaves rustled loudly as they ran through the yard,
and along with their giggling made their "stealth" a canard
Thus up to the house-top the toilet rolls flew,
And the driver also brought spray paint cans, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard even more
From the thudding of eggs that were hurled at my door.
Then I drew in my hand, and quick turned around,
Down hallway I ran and the staircase I bound.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his shoes,
And his clothes smelled of cigarettes and really cheap booze;
I burst through the door with as much speed as I could
And like a deer in the headlights he froze where he stood.

His eyes -- how they widened! his pupils dilated!
His cheeks went quite ashen, his nose aspirated!
His thin little mouth was drawn up like a scream,
And the fuzz of his chin was the color of cream;

The stump of a cigarette had been clenched in his teeth,
But now it bounced of his chest and down to his feet;
He had a thin face and broad strong-looking shoulders,
That shook, as he trembled like San Andreas boulders.

But he was youthful and tall, and I started to frown
that this young sturdy fellow might be tough to take down
But I gazed in his eyes then twisted his head,
And with the snap of his neck I had nothing to dread;

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
I caught all the others; then turned with a jerk,
And taking one girl and baring her throat
I sank in my fangs and that's all she wrote!

Then I sprang to the porch, and I let out a whistle
Down the rest of my brood flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard my wife say, ere she bit down to suck,
"If they'd had along their rosaries, we'd been out of luck."


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Short Title: Halloween3

Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories 
From: "Mr. Caine" 
Date: Fri, 24 Dec 2004 02:06:43 +0100 
Subject: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY! 

... To you and all those you love. Even to those you don't love. It's Christmas time!
... and a song from one of my favorite movies ever...


It was late one fall in Halloweenland, and the air had quite a chill.
Against the moon a skeleton sat, alone upon a hill.
He was tall and thin with a bat bow tie;
Jack Skellington was his name. He was tired and bored in Halloweenland

"I'm sick of the scaring, the terror, the fright.
I'm tired of being something that goes bump in the night.
I'm bored with leering my horrible glances,
And my feet hurt from dancing those skeleton dances.

I don't like graveyards, and I need something new.
There must be more to life than just yelling, 'Boo!'"
Then out from a grave, with a curl and a twist,
Came a whimpering, whining, spectral mist.

It was a little ghost dog, with a faint little bark,
And a jack-o'-lantern nose that glowed in the dark.
It was Jack's dog, Zero, the best friend he had,
But Jack hardly noticed, which made Zero sad.

All that night and through the next day,
Jack wandered and walked. He was filled with dismay.
Then deep in the forest, just before night,
Jack came upon an amazing sight.

Not twenty feet from the spot where he stood
Were three massive doorways carved in wood.
He stood before them, completely in awe,
His gaze transfixed by one special door.

Entranced and excited, with a slight sense of worry,
Jack opened the door to a white, windy flurry.
Jack didn't know it, but he'd fallen down
In the middle of a place called Christmas Town!

Immersed in the light, Jack was no longer haunted.
He had finally found the feeling he wanted.
And so that his friends wouldn't think him a liar,
He took the present filled stockings that hung by the fire.

He took candy and toys that were stacked on the shelves
And a picture of Santa with all of his elves.
He took lights and ornaments and the star from the tree,
And from the Christmas Town sign, he took the big letter C.

He picked up everything that sparkled or glowed.
He even picked up a handful of snow.
He grabbed it all, and without being seen,
He took it all back to Halloween.

Back in Halloween a group of Jack's peers
Stared in amazement at his Christmas souvenires.
For this wondrous vision none were prepared.
Most were excited, though a few were quite scared!

For the next few days, while it lightninged and thundered,
Jack sat alone and obsessively wondered.
"Why is it they get to spread laughter and cheer
While we stalk the graveyards, spreading panic and fear?

Well, I could be Santa, and I could spread cheer!
Why does he get to do it year after year?"
Outraged by injustice, Jack thought and he thought.
Then he got an idea. "Yes. . .yes. . .why not!"

In Christmas Town, Santa was making some toys
When through the din he heard a soft noise.
He answered the door, and to his surprise,
He saw weird little creatures in strange disguise.

They were altogether ugly and rather petite.
As they opened their sacks, they yelled, "Trick or treat!"
Then a confused Santa was shoved into a sack
And taken to Halloween to see mastermind Jack.

In Halloween everyone gathered once more,
For they'd never seen a Santa before
And as they cautiously gazed at this strange old man,
Jack related to Santa his masterful plan:

"My dear Mr. Claus, I think it's a crime
That you've got to be Santa all of the time!
But now I will give presents, and I will spread cheer.
We're changing places I'm Santa this year.

It is I who will say Merry Christmas to you!
So you may lie in my coffin, creak doors, and yell, 'Boo!'
And please, Mr. Claus, don't think ill of my plan.
For I'll do the best Santa job that I can."

And though Jack and his friends thought they'd do a good job,
Their idea of Christmas was still quite macabre.
They were packed up and ready on Christmas Eve day
When Jack hitched his reindeer to his sleek coffin sleigh,

But on Christmas Eve as they were about to begin,
A Halloween fog slowly rolled in.
Jack said, "We can't leave; this fog's just too think.
There will be no Christmas, and I can't be St. Nick."

Then a small glowing light pierced through the fog.
What could it be?. . .It was Zero, Jack's dog!
Jack said, "Zero, with your nose so bright,
Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

And to be so needed was Zero's great dream,
So he joyously flew to the head of the team.
And as the skeletal sleigh started its ghostly flight,
Jack cackled, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

'Twas the nightmare before Christmas, and all though the house,
Not a creature was peaceful, not even a mouse.
The stockings all hung by the chimney with care,
When opened that morning would cause quite a scare!

The children, all nestled so snug in their beds,
Would have nightmares of monsters and skeleton heads.
The moon that hung over the new-fallen snow
Cast an eerie pall over the city below,

And Santa Claus's laughter now sounded like groans,
And the jingling bells like chattering bones.
And what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a coffin sleigh with skeleton deer.

And a skeletal driver so ugly and sick
They knew in a moment, this can't be St. Nick!
From house to house, with a true sense of joy,
Jack happily issued each present and toy.

From rooftop to rooftop he jumped and he skipped,
Leaving presents that seemed to be straight from a crypt!
Unaware that the world was in panic and fear,
Jack merrily spread his own brand of cheer.

He visited the house of Susie and Dave;
They got a Gumby and Pokey from the grave.
Then on to the home of little Jane Neeman;
She got a baby doll possessed by a demon.

A monstrous train with tentacle tracks,
A ghoulish puppet wielding an ax,
A man eating plant disguised as a wreath,
And a vampire teddy bear with very sharp teeth.

There were screams of terror, but Jack didn't hear it,
He was much too involved with his own Christmas spirit!
Jack finally looked down from his dark, starry frights
And saw the commotion, the noise, and the light.

"Why, they're celebrating, it looks like such fun!
They're thanking me for the good job that I've done."
But what he thought were fireworks meant as goodwill
Were bullets and missiles intended to kill.

Then amidst the barrage of artillery fire,
Jack urged Zero to go higher and higher.
And away they all flew like the storm of a thistle,
Until they were hit by a well guided missile.

And as they fell on the cemetery, way out of sight,
Was heard, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
Jack pulled himself up on a large stone cross,
And from there he reviewed his incredible loss.

"I thought I could be Santa, I had such belief"
Jack was confused and filled with great grief.
Not knowing where to turn, he looked toward the sky,
Then he slumped on the grave and he started to cry.

And as Zero and Jack lay crumpled on the ground,
They suddenly heard a familiar sound.
"My dear Jack," said Santa, "I applaud your intent.
I know wreaking such havoc was not what you meant.

And so you are sad and feeling quite blue,
But taking over Christmas was the wrong thing to do.
I hope you realize Halloween's the right place for you.
There's a lot more, Jack, that I'd like to say,
But now I must hurry, for it's almost Christmas day."

Then he jumped in his sleigh, and with a wink of an eye,
He said, "Merry Christmas," and he bid them good bye.
Back home, Jack was sad, but then, like a dream,
Santa brought Christmas to the land of Halloween.

--
Mr. Caine


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Short Title: Halloween4

From: Gomez Addams (aka Frank)
Sent: Tuesday, April 26, 2005 3:33 AM

This was recited in an episode of the old "The Addams Family"
TV show, it's purportedly a family poem passed down through generations:

Twas Halloween evening
and all through the abode
not a creature was stirring
not even a toad

The Jack-o-lanterns are hung
on the gallows with care
to guide sister witch
as she flies through the air

Drawn by eight beautiful bats
as she calls out to them:

Come Flitter, come Flutter,
come Flapper, and Flier.
Come Chitter, come Chatter,
come vicious vampire!


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Short Title: Hanson

Subject:      A Hanson "Night Before Christmas"
From:         Jay Windley 
Date:         1997/12/21
Message-ID:   <349DAA06.3B60160C@xmission.com>
Newsgroups:   alt.fan.hanson

Okay, here's what happens when you don't get enough sleep.

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HANSON STYLE
by Jay Windley 

'Twas the night before Christmas and in Hanson's garage
Not a creature was stirring, not even the Dodge.
The tires were hung on a nail with care
In the hopes that St. Nich'las would fill them with air.
The walls were all covered with cartoons aplenty,
Too many to count them, but WAY more than twenty.
Tay's Kurzweil keyboard lay switched off and quiet,
And Zac's favorite drumsticks were on the stool by it.
Ike left his guitar safely perched on the amp,
Just in case the garage's hard floor would get damp.

The brothers themselves had gone upstairs to sleep,
Their Doc Martins thrown on the floor in a heap.
And as they lay snoring and drooling and dreaming,
Their ears were still ringing from all the fans screaming.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.
They ran to the window to peer through the glass
(Except Tay tripped on something and fell on his -- hiney).
The speck in the distance began to advance;
'Twas a sleigh pulled by Spice Girls in leopard-skin pants.
The little old driver was bobbing and swerving;
His lack of control was especially unnerving.
His shouted instructions had no great effect,
For the sleigh's fright'ning airspeed continued unchecked.

And then in a twinkling Zac heard o'er his head
The sickening thud of a crash-landing sled.
Shouted Santa: "That sure wasn't one for the books!"
Said the Spice Girls:  "We're sorry, we're hired for our looks."
Santa climbed down the drainspout both quickly and nimbly.
(See, that's what he does when the house has no chimbley.)
Isaac opened the window and Santa stepped through it,
Saying, "No one can land the way Rudolph could do it.
You guys have no clue how much trouble you've caused me.
I haven't seen mayhem like this since Bing Crosby.
It used to be kids wanted Barbies and Slinkies."
Then Zac said "Relax, have a chair.  Want some Twinkies?"

Santa reached for his sack with a fur-covered fist
And he pulled out some paper and said "See my list?
I've got 'Middle of Nowhere' clear up to my eyeballs,
Not to mention a sleigh being pulled by your rivals.
That sleigh isn't tough like a Ford or a Chevy.
The past several years it's been just too darn heavy,
And all the old reindeer can't cut it no more.
And besides I don't know what else Girl Power's for.
I've got calendars, T-shirts and hats by the truckload.
The wish list from fans takes two hours to upload.
And your video -- 'Tulsa and Tokyo Wherever,'
Just to fill all these orders is quite an endeavor.
They want your old albums like 'Boom'rang' and 'Mmmbop.'"
He paused for a minute.  (What the heck rhymes with "Mmmbop?")

"I've got letters from girls who are dying to kiss you.
Some girl in Des Moines wants your used Kleenex tissue.
So what did you guys do to cause all this clamour?
You're driving me nuts; I'll end up in the slammer."
"Beats me," answered Taylor.  "I guess we're just lucky.
But some people think that our music is yucky."
Said Isaac "We didn't do all this on purpose
But so far nobody has tried to usurp us.
We're sorry demand for our stuff keeps on rising,
But you are the guy with the best merchandising.
Do you know what you brought us last time you were here?"
"Oh, yeah.  You're the guys that got Legos each year."

A voice from the roof gently fell on his ear:
"Get a move on it, Fat Boy, it's freezing up here."
So he said his goodbyes and climbed back to his sleigh
And he said to his team "Alright girls, let us pray."
But they heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight:
"Merry Christmas to all -- No, you morons! Turn right!"

(c) 1997 Jay Windley.  Permission granted to reproduce for
nonpecuniary purposes.

--
Jay Windley, SpE
jwindley@xmission.com

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Short Title: HawaiianChristmas

From: Ron Allard (Ron@Diceman.com)
Subject: OT: Night Before Christmas - Hawaiian Style 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.marching.drumcorps
Date: 2002-12-22 12:39:33 PST 

Twas the Night Before Christmas (Hawaiian Style)

Was da night befo Chreesmess when all tru da hale,
Not one crecha was stirring not even one `iole,
Da Kakini stay hang on the puka wit caya
Wit hopes dat Santa Claus soon would be dea.
Da keiki wen moemoe on top of da bed
while crackseed and mochi stay dance in deh head.
Mama in her muumuu and I in my malo,
were just finishing off da aku bone and kalo,

Wen outside da hale I heard one beeg clatta
I jumped from da table fo see whats da matta
quick tru da lumi i went like one flash
I opened the puka and run out on da grass
The moon wen shine down on da ocean so clea
gave a lusta to da wata, like frosty root bea.

When what to my maka should I suddenly see
but a double hulled canoe and eight giant mahimahi.
Wit one tiny old paddla, so lively and quick,
That I knew in one minute gotta be St Nick.

More fas dane one mo`o his i`a dey came
an he screaming and yelling and calling dey name
Now Kini, now Kimo, now Kale and Moke,
On Ha`a, on Umi on Limu and Loke,
sweem ova da waves by da light of da moon,
now wait in da wata, I gon come back soon.

Like pupu they stay on da deep ocean flooa
when da wata stat swirling dey come to da shore
so up to the village in Honolulu
with a canoe full of toys and Santa Claus too.

An den in one twinkle, I heard on da wall,
da mele and hula, soun like half-time futball
As I run in da hale and just turn aroun
down came da beeg guy, some tree hundred fifty pound.
He was dress in one malo and kihei all in red
wit one matching papale on top of his head
one package of toys he had trown on his back
and mango and papaya in a lauhala pack

his maka, wen twinkle, his deemple so merry
his cheeks was all rosy, his nose like one cherry
his waha niho ole, was smilin so beeg
and da beard on his `auwae was smoothe as one peeg
he had one tan face, and a beeg fat opu
that shook when he laugh, like a bowl of pipi stew
he was oh so momona, a cute ol kane
and I wen laugh wen I see him, he jus look so funny

One wink of his eye and one twis of his head
soon went let me know I had noting to dread,
he spoke not one word but wen shtraight to his work
filling all the kakini; then he turn wit one jerk
and he wen put his finga on da side of his ihu
and giving one nod ran out to his canoe,

He wen spring on top his noho, an made one beeg whistle
and waway they wen swam like one rocket ship missle
but I heard him wen say on the waves as he go
Mele Kalikimaka, a me hau`oli makahiki hou!

-- 
Ron in Vegas
ron.allard@att.net


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Short Title: HecticSickChristmas

Originally published in:
The Durham Herald-Sun
Sunday, December 24, 2000
Section E, page 2

'Twas the Night Before ...
by Cheryl Sewell of Durham

Twas three weeks before Christmas when all the town,
I was out rushing, wearing a frown,
My mind was all filled with woe and with care,
Knowing that Christmas soon would be there.

But a snowstorm was coming, so I rushed to the store,
Bought bread and miik, and then bought some more!
Amid coughers and sneezers, I waited in line,
The snowstorm then fizzled, the sun chose to shine,

Next day I woke up, felt bad, a hot flash,
Went to the Doctor, gave her my cash,
She told me "It's nothing, just a bug in the air"
"I can't be sick at Christmas. That just isn't fair!"

"Take it easy," she said, "go home and rest,"
First I'll go to the mall to begin my gift quest.
But, what to my wondering eyes did appear,
There were packed parking lots, with cars front to rear,

I stared at the throng, so daunting and thick,
And I knew in a moment that I would be sick!
More rapid than eagles, I raced home to my bed,
Turned out the lights and covered my head.

Now Motrin, now Nasonex, now, Tussin, and Vicks,
On, Tylenol, on, Kleenex, Boy, was I sick!
My temperature rose and then it would fall,
Now cough away, drip away, sneeze away all.

Feverishly I planned all the gifts I would buy,
But my anxiety rose, mounted up to the sky,
I had not been shopping, bought nothing at all,
And still I lacked strength to tackle the mall,

And then in a twinkle, I knew what to do,	
I'd get some big trucks and some big, strong men too,
I climbed from my bed, drew my bathrobe around,
Sat down at my keyboard and started to pound,

I surfed Ebay, Amazon and Hammacher Schlemmer,
Fogdog, eToys, too many sites to remember,
I bought everything I wanted, got it all in one whack,
And if I bought too much, Hey! after Christmas it goes back!

My eyes how they twinkled, my dimples how merry,
My cheeks were like roses, my nose like a cherry
I was obviously still feverish, delirium I guess,
But Christmas was now coming, courtesy of UPS.

I rubbed my aching head and blew my sore nose,
And thep as my bleary eyes started to close
I heard Santa whisper, as my dreams took to flight,
"Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

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Short Title: Hippies

from http://www.wi2600.org/mediawhore/mirrors/textfiles.com/holiday/niteb4.xmas

'Twas the night before Christmas
	And all through the house,
Things were real mellow...
	Even Irving, the Mouse.

Our boots were hung up,
	The incense was lit,
In hope that St. Nick
	Would soon do his bit.

The tree was decked out;
	It was really a sight,
With love beads and flowers
	And a flashing strobe light.

Wearing my T-shirt
	From Woodstock Nation,
I was getting into some good meditation.

And my chick was doing some yoga in bed,
	munching a fruit cake,
While propped on her head.

Then...pow!!...in the night...
	...a hullabaloo!
It shook the waterbed
	And woke up old Blue.

I stumbled around
	And tripped on my beard.
It stuck to my toes
	And felt really wierd.

When I got to the window,
	I was really uptight,
'cause the scene I perceived
	Was a mind blowing sight!

What through my shades
	Did I see through the snow,
But eight tiny mooses
	And a wild U.F.O.!

With this hip dude inside,
	Looking kinky and groovy...
I flashed..."If this ain't Nick
	It must be the late movie."

They blew in from the cosmos
	Like some far-out caboose
And this fat cat kept yelling
	At each midget moose:

"Right on, Dasher! On, Dancer!
	GET IT ON...DO YOUR THING.
Get your bods in high gear, now,
	And move this machine!"

Then onto the roof
	They flew with a shout,
The whole Cosmic Crew
	Really freaked me out!

They caused such a hassle
	And made such a fuss,
I thought someone would call
	The fuzz down on us.

But before I could say, "COOL IT!...
	HOLD DOWN THAT LOUD JIVE,"
Nick zapped toward the chimney
	And leaped in with a dive!

As he trucked from the fireplace,
	His smile all agleam,
I thought, "ITS UNREAL!
	It must be a dream!"

Then he nodded and said,
	"This isn't a bummer...
Like, I've come in peace,
	To groove my Yule Number."

His duds were all fur,
	Trimmed in leather and such
And he came on stone funky...
	...he was really too much.

His back pack was painted
	With black light festoon,
Full of albums and posters
	And a neon balloon.

His eyes, a light show!
	His beard, da-glo bright!
A plastic, fantastic,
	Kaleidoscope sight!

He looked like a guru,
	This beautiful cat...
...I thought, like, wow!
	...This dude knows where its at!

"Don't want to sound heavy,"
	He said with a grin,
"My message is simple
	So dig it, tune in."

"I brought you some goodies,
	But that's not the thing.
My real trip is bringing
	Good vibes to this scene."

So we rapped until dawn
	About Peace, Love and Truth,
Then he said, "Gotta split, now,
	Or I'll be late in Duluth."

He wiggled his nose and said,
	"I did my bit"
And straight up the smoke hole
	This fat cat did split!

As he sped from the roof
	And into the air,
He shouted, "Let's get it together,
	All you people down there!"

"Merry Christmas To All
	And to all a Good Night!"
And then in a flash,
	He streaked outta sight!

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Last Modified January 7, 2007