Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Variations
Version 2007.1
Part 24 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: JimmyBuffet1

   Author:   Chi-Girl
   Date: 1998/12/25

Shivering Chi-girl Wishing everyone here the Happiest of Holidays and
all the best in the New Year.  :)

Twas the Night Before Christmas - Buffet Style

Twas the night before Carnival,
When all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even my mouse;

The tickets were laid
On the table with care,
In hopes that Jimmy
Soon would be there.

We Parrot Heads were nestled
All snug in our beds,
While dreams of Margaritaville
Danced in our heads?

With mama in coconuts,
And I in grass skirt,
Had just put on
Our Hawaiian shirts.

Like the woman to blame
It's all Jimmy's fault,
As we search in our heads,
For that shaker of salt.

While out on the lawn
There arose such a sound,
I sprang from my sleep
And down with a bound.

Away to the window
I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters
And threw up the sash.

The moon on the crest,
Of the washed in sand,
Gave the luster of mid-day
And the Coral Reefer Band;

With, what to my wandering eyes
Should appear,
But a big silver plane,
Called The Hemisphere;

With a little old pilot,
So lively with wit,
I knew in a moment,
Twas Jimmy Buffett.

More rapid than eagles
His course they came,
And whistled, and shouted,
And called them by name;

"Now, Robert! Now, Roger!
Now, Michael and Peter!
On, Tom! On, John!
On, Fingers and Tina!

On, Nadirah! Now, Amy!
Now, Mac! Ralph and Jim!
Now, take to flight!
And whisper in wind!

To the top of the sky!
To the edge of the sea!
Now play boys! Play!
Play, for me!"

So, up in the night,
His course they flew;
With a plane full of gypsies,
And Jimmy too.

And then, in a twinkling,
I heard him yell, STOP!
With the spitting, and sputtering,
Of the glistening prop;

As I drew in my hand,
And was turning around,
I remembered hearing
That he was in town.

He was dressed in shorts,
With flip-flops on feet;
As I heard him sing,
"Car-nee-val is very sweet."

A bundle of booty
He had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pirate
Just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled!
His dimples how merry!
His foot tapping,
The chorus bearing;

His curly hair
Blown back by wind,
With wrinkles only,
Where smiles have been;

His thoughts beside him,
And swag in hand;
With sword at his side,
He danced in the sand;

He had a schoolboy's heart
And sailors blue eyes,
That danced, and dazzled,
Like stars in the sky;

He was tanned and windblown,
A right jolly old salt;
And at seeing me,
Caused him to halt.

A wink of his eye
And twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread.

He looked at the crowd,
Then went straight to his song;
This was a time,
Gone none too long.

With His last encore over,
And a joyful tear,
He stated to all:
"See you next year!"

He sprang off the stage,
And went right to his plane,
Thinking if we weren't crazy
We would go insane.

But I heard him exclaim,
Ere he flew out of sight,
   "Fins to left!
      Fins to the right!"

by Rick Lodwick   (Thanks, Drifty!)


Short Title: JimmyBuffet2

   Author:   BobRob
   Date: 1998/12/07

   The Night Before Christmas - KWFL Style
'Twas the night before Christmas my hand on the mouse
I was surfin' the web whil'st drunk as a louse.

The keets were all tucked in their beds with shut eyes
With visions of mangoes and bananas piled up to the sky.

With I in the chat room and Ma in my lap
The last thing we were thinking of was a long Winter's nap.

When out on the ocean we spied our own vision.
I sprang from my chair, Ma kerplunked and was wishin'....
                                        ....I hadn't done that :-)

When what to my rum-laden eyes should appear
But a 14 foot Whaler full of Parrothead gear.

The Captain looked familiar as he flashed that great grin
And I knew in a moment 'twas Bubba Claus sans fin.

He came through the front door and opened his poke,
Pulled out his Martin and without a coax

He jammed for us there, then started to call
All the Reefers to join him and play for us all.

"Oh Fingers and Robert and Utley and Jim,
Hey Roger and Peter," I heard him call them.

With Winos that I know and Fruitcakes galore
'Twas indeed a merry Christmas on the Atlantic shore.

And we heard him express as he sailed out of site
"Mele Kalikimaka to all and to all a good night."

KWFL's Hard Drinkin' Calypso Poet


Short Title: Johnson


   'Twas the Night Before Christmas, with a Johnson perspective

   This poem was sent in to me by a vistor of this site.  It is quite
   creative and hilariously funny.  The author wishes to remain
   Anonymous, but any comments you would like to send to him/her can be
   directed to and I will see that they are passed on.
   'Twas the night before Christmas 
   And I was at work
   Doing car stops and house checks
   And dealing with jerks

   There were drunkards and peepers:
   And husbands and wives
   Carrying bottles and guns
   And BIG firickin' knives

   There were car wrecks and fistfights
   And shootings and more
   There were burglars and car thieves
   And Rachel the (lady of the evening)

   But what to my wondering
   Eyes should appear
   But a car full of ladies
   And a keg full of beer

   They giggled and wiggled
   And shouted and screamed
   And I said to myself
   This is just what I've dreamed

   A car fall of cuties
   Out looking for fun
   I could stop and ask
   'If they'd wait 'til I'm done

   On headlights, on bar lights
   On wig-wags and siren
   I drove after them quickly
   Man ... was I flyin'

   Through red lights and stop signs
   A yard and a field
   I tried every trick
   To get them to yield

   They finally stopped
   And surrendered themselves
   Which is when I discovered
   They weren't babes, BUT ELVES!

   They wore make-up and lipstick
   And each wore a dress
   But the hair on their legs
   Made them look quite a mess

   I asked them politely
   What their plans were for the night
   "Cause frankly dear gents
   You're one hell of a sight!"

   The big one named Oscar
   Gave a wink and a smile
   And stood there and stared
   At me for a while

   Then he answered me sharply
   And pulled out a beer
   And said, "We are elves
   But we also are queer."

   "Only once every year
   Are we allowed to come out
   To wiggle and giggle
   To scream and to shout"

   "So we came to your town
   For some action and fun
   So drop your drawers
   Your badge and your gun!"

   I grinned then I laughed
   Which went to a chuckle
   That's when they began
   To tug on my buckle

   I pushed and I swung
   Using both of my fists
   Then I finally got clear
   And boy! I Was I pissed!!

   I needed some help
   So I pushed the red button
   On the radio I had
   Provided by Johnson

   I pushed and I poked
   With all of my power
   But I guess it's too far
   From that god damn tower!

   So there I was stuck
   My Johnson and me
   Facing little queer elves
   From up in a tree

   They gave us these radios
   And swore they were great
   So the county spent millions
   And thus sealed our fate.

   The end of this story
   You're waiting to see
   If those queer little elves
   Got my Johnson and me?

   Now I talk a bit higher
   And I walk like a duck
   And the Johnsons we use
   They still really suck

   Remember they're useless
   If you get in a fight
   But, Merry Christmas to all
   And to all a good night!


Short Title: Journalist


                      'Twas the night before Christmas
                         and all through the house,
                        not a creature was stirring,
                            not even Hugh Downs.
                For he was tied up in my basement with care,
           with hopes Barbara Walters soon, too, would be there.
                  And hot Katie Couric tied up to my bed,
                though Geraldo will always dance in my head.
                 I left after I had sat down on Hugh's lap,
              to settle with Katie for a long winter's "nap."
             I dreamed of adding to my news casters Dan Rather,
              When in came Kate Moss weiging Negative Matter.
               She seemed to be high on some really bad hash,
                and wouldn't stop begging for heroine cash.

                 She envied the huge Carnie Wilson so dear
                        That I gave her a lame show,
                          and she ate a reindeer.


Short Title: JoyOfChristmas

Subject:      The Joy Of Christmas
From:         Mothug Family Scriptures 
Date:         1997/12/27
Message-ID:   <>
Newsgroups:   alt.teens.poetry.and.stuff

       The Joys of Christmas

  Twas the night before Christmas
     And all through our town
   Not a television was blarring
         Not even a sound

      The children were snug
      In their beds with care
      Warned by their parents
    Not to come down the stairs

        In just a few hours
         My eyes shall see
       My most desired gift
   Neatly wrapped under the tree

       Morning came quickly
       My feet hit the floor
     A bicycle and basketball
       Just outside my door

        Could I be happier
      Than this Christmas day
        I got what I wanted
       It's the American way

         I'll never forget
       That rap on the door
       The young childs face
          Happy but poor

         My mom soon asked
      The purpose of her call
      A few morsels of bread
    Were the only thing at all

          I saw the tears
     As they ran down her face
        My Mom's gentle hug
    And a meal given with grace

      What a lesson I learned
      That cold December day
       The joy of Christmas
    Came in a very special way.

      Merry Christmas to all
   And to all a blessed night...

By Wade Trump



Short Title: Jump(Paratrooper)

From: Lawrence Braden (
Date: 12/23/2002

‘Twas the jump before Christmas
And all through the plane,
The Jumpmaster’s crazy
And the Safety’s insane.

The static lines were hung
On the cables with care
In hopes that a green light
Soon would be there.

At the one minute warning
Not a word would be said,
While malfunctions and entanglements
Danced through their heads.

With the door bundles rigged
I hook up my pack,
Let’s pull this jump off
Without a racetrack!

When out on the wing
There rose such a clatter,
I opened the door 
To see what was the matter,

And what to my night-visioned eyes 
Should appear,
But a towed parachutist 
And eight reindeer.

I leaned out the door 
And grabbed hold of his sleigh,
He gave a four thousand count
When I cut him away.

He fell through the night
‘Till I saw him no more,
Then came back inside
And yelled, “Stand in the door.”

Some jumpers were happy 
And some full of fright,
But when the green light came on
They all jumped that night.

On bundle, on jumpers, 
The jumpmaster exits the door,
One thousand, two thousand 
Three thousand, four!

With my body in the blast
And my knees in the breeze,
St. Michael protect me,
From all of these trees!

Dark skies full of chutes
And strong winds did blow,
Then heard a faint distant Laughter,
From the DZSO.

One riser slip
Hand over hand to my right,
But my hands were so cold 
I could not hold on tight.

Now lower your ruck
And slip hard as you can,
Put your feet and knees together
And get ready to land.

Ball of the feet, calf, thigh,
And push up muscle,
Roll up your chute
And move out with a hustle.

To the chute turn-in point,
The red light and a vest,
Be sure your name is scratched
From the jump manifest.

I saw the assembly point
A strobe light so bright,
I knew even new troopers,
Would find it that night.

No matter where or when
Be it Desert or Snow,
The Airborne Troopers
Are ready to go.

For it was that jolly towed parachutist
Holding that light,
Saying happy jumping to all
And to all a good night.

Have a Merry Airborne Christmas!
To all, a happy holiday greeting
What do you have when you have 6.023 X 10^23 avacados?
A guacaMole


Short Title: KitchenTiredCook

   Author:   AnonGirl
   Date: 1998/12/19
   Forums: alt.penpals.forty-plus-yrs
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen;
I was cooking and baking and moanin' and bitchin'.
I've been here for hours, I cant stop to rest.
This rooms a disaster, just look at this mess!

Tommorow I've got thirty people to feed.
They expect all the trimmings.  Who cares what I need!
My feet are both blistered, I've got cramps in my legs.
The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs.

There's a knock at the door and the telephone's ringing;
frosting drips on the counter as the microwave's dinging.
Two pies in the oven, desserts almost done;
my cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.

I've had alI I can stand, I cant take anymore;
Then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor.
He weaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady;
then grins as he chuckles, "The eggnog is ready!"

He looks all around and with total regret,
says, "Whats taking so long...aren't you through in here yet??"
As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;
He loses an earlobe; I wanted his life!

He flees from the room in terror and pain
Now what was I doing, and what is that smell?
Oh, shit!  It's the pies!!  They're burned all to hell!!

I hate to admit when I make a mistake,
but I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE.
What else can go wrong??  Is there still more ahead??
If this is good living, I'd rather be dead.

Lord, don't get me wrong, I love holidays;
It just leaves me exhausted, all shakey and dazed.
But I promise you one thing, If I live till next year,
You wont find me pulling my hair out in here.

I'll hire a maid, a cook, and a waiter;
and if that doesn't work, I'LL HAVE IT ALL CATERED!!!



Short Title: Kosher

Subject:      The Night Before Christmas - Kosher Style (just for fun)

From: (Mbkaroll)

Date:         1997/12/20

Message-ID:   <>


  	Erev Christmas

	by Lori Factor-Marcus and Bruce Marcus
	(glossary follows)

`Twas the night before Christmas, and we, being Jews,
 My girlfriend and me - we had nothing to do.
The Gentiles were home, hanging stockings with care,
 Secure in their knowledge St. Nick would be there.
But for us, once the Chanukah candles burned down,
 There was nothing but boredom all over town.
The malls and the theaters were all closed up tight;
 There weren't any concerts to go to that night.
A dance would have saved us, some ballroom or swing,
 But we searched through the papers; there wasn't a thing.
Outside the window sat two feet of snow;
 With the windchill, they said it was fifteen below.
And while all I could do was sit there and brood,
 My girl saved the night and called out: "CHINESE FOOD!"

So we ran to the closet, grabbed hats, mitts, and boots -
 To cover our heads, our hands, and our foots.
We pulled on our jackets, all puffy with down,
 And boarded the T, bound for old Chinatown.
The train nearly empty, it rolled through the stops,
 While visions of wantons danced through our kopfs.
We hopped off at Park Street; the Common was bright
 With fresh-fallen snow and the trees strung with lights,
Then crept through "The Zone" with its bums and its thugs,
 And entrepreneurs pushing ladies and drugs.
At last we reached Chinatown, rushed through the gate,
 Past bakeries, markets, shops and cafes,
In search of a restaurant: "Which one?  Let's decide!"
 We chose "Hunan Chozer," and ventured inside.

Around us sat others, their platters piled high
 With the finest of fine foods their money could buy:
There was roast duck and fried squid, (sweet, sour and spiced,)
 Dried beef and mixed veggies, lo mein and fried rice,
Whole fish and moo shi and shrimp chow mee foon,
 And General Gau's chicken and ma po tofu...
When at last we decided, and the waiter did call,
 We said: "Skip the menu!" and ordered it all.
And when in due time the food was all made,
 It came to the table in a sort of parade.
Before us sat dim sum, spare ribs and egg rolls,
 And four different soups, in four great, huge bowls.
And chicken wings!  Dumplings!  and beef teriakis!
 And scallion pancakes - 'cause they're kind of like latkes!

The courses kept coming, from spicy to mild,
 And higher and higher toward the ceiling were piled.
And while this went on, we were aware
 Every diner around us had started to stare.
Their jaws hanging open, they looked on unblinking;
 Some dropped their teacups, some drooled without thinking.
So much piled up, one dish after another,
 My girlfriend and I couldn't see one another!

Now we sat there, we two, without proper utensils,
 While they handed us something that looked like two pencils.
We poked and we jabbed till our fingers were sore
 And half of our dinner wound up on the floor.
We tried - how we tried! - but, sad truth to tell,
 Ten long minutes later and still hungry as hell,
We swallowed our pride, feeling vaguely like dorks,
 And called to our waiter to bring us two forks.

We fressed and we feasted, we slurped and we munched;
 We noshed and we supped, we breakfast'd and lunched.
We ate 'til we couldn't and drank down our teas
 And barely had room for our fortune cookies.
But my fortune was perfect; it summed up the mood
 when it said: "Pork is kosher, when it's in Chinese food."
And my girlfriend - well... she got a real winner;
 Her's said: "Your companion will pay for the dinner."

Our bellies were full and at last it was time
 To travel back home and write some bad rhyme
Of our Chinatown trek (and to privately speak
 About trying to refine our chopstick technique).
The MSG spun 'round and 'round in our heads,
 And we tripped and we laughed and gaily we said,
As we carried our leftovers home through the night:
 "Good Yom Tov to all - and to all a Good Night!"

Glossary for non-Jews:
Erev = eve
Kopfs = heads
Chozer = pig
Latkes = potato pancakes
Fressed = ate
Noshed = snacked
Yom Tov = good day (holiday)

Glossary for non-Bostonians:
The T = Boston's subway and transit system
Park Street = the major downtown subway station
the Common = major park in the center of Boston
The Zone = the "Combat Zone", Boston's seedy adult" entertainment district

  Bruce Marcus is a story teller in Somerville, Massachusetts.
  Lori Factor works at the Community Action Agency in Somerville, Massachusetts.

  Written in 1992 by Lori Factor-Marcus and Bruce Marcus
  First appeared in Boston Globe


Short Title: Kwanzaa1

From:   IN%""  "Frasier"  1-JAN-1997 11:21:43.60
Subj:	The Frasier Daily

'Twas the Night Befo' Kwanzaa

'Twas the night before Kwanzaa, and down in the hood,
All the homeys was hopin' the crack would be good
The workshoes were hung where they'd never be used
Since the welfare system is so much abused

With Kwase Mfume and Schmoke at the Hall
Waiting around for Bill Clinton to call
I in my workclothes sat back with a case
After ten hours of sweat it was time to get faced

After the tenth, I was totally waxed
And wondered aloud when will piss become taxed
When out on the porch arose such a clatter
I slipped as I zipped with a half-empty bladder

Then what to my wondering eyes did appear
But a fat old black man - gold ring in his ear
He said, "I'm Father Kwanzaa and Santa is dead"
"So git yo' white ass on back to yo' bed!"

"For Farrakhan rules and Bill is our man,"
"So out o' yo' pockets, and into our hands!"
"Your money in taxes, empowerment grants,"
"You're lucky I don't take them baggy-assed pants!"

Then he ransacked my house, even took my last beer,
And said with a voice full of holiday cheer,
"Keep workin' those days, keep workin' those nights,"
"Happy Kwanzaa to all, DON'T IT SUCK TO BE WHITE!"


Short Title: Kwanzaa2

From: mista jive (
Subject: Da Night Befo' Kwanzaa 
Newsgroups: memphis.general, dc.general
Date: 2003-12-23 17:33:54 PST 

'Twas the night before Kwanzaa and all through the 'hood,
Maulana Karenga was up to no good.

He'd tortured a 'hoe and spent time in jail.
He needed a new scam that just wouldn't fail.
("So what if I stuck some bitch's toe in a vice?
Nobody said revolution was nice!")

The Sixties were over. Now what would he do?
Why, he went back to school - now he's "Dr." to you!
He once ordered shootouts at UCLA
Now he teaches nigger studies just miles away.

Then to top it all off, the good Doctor's new plan
Was to get rid of Christmas and piss off The Man.
Karenga invented a fake holiday.
He called the thing Kwanzaa. "Hey, what's that you say?

"You don't get what's 'black' about Maoist baloney?
You say that my festival's totally phony?

"Who cares if corn isn't an Africoon crop?
Who cares if our harvest's a month or two off?
Who cares if Swahili's not our mother tongue?
A lie for The Cause never hurt anyone!

"Umoja! Ujima! Kujichagulia, too!
Collectivist crap never sounded so cool!
Those guilty white liberals -- easy to fool.
Your kids will now celebrate Kwanzaa in school!"

And we heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight:
"Happy Kwanzaa to all, except if you're White!"


Short Title: LaFemmeNikita

   Author:   William Superdock
   Date: 1998/12/19
'The Night Before Season 3'

'Twas the night before Season 3 when all through the net
Not a fan could rest easy, at least not yet.

The episodes were filmed under much speculation,
With hopes running high for our expected elation.

The Powers That Be were all snug in their beds,
While visions of the Nielsen's danced in their heads.

And my spouse in his boxers and me in a fright,
Got all settled in for a long restless night.

When deep in my dreams I heard such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a strange looking van with eight op's in black gear.

With an evil looking driver, shouting "on we will forge",
I knew in a moment that it must be George.

With the mission approaching, his cold op's they came
And he hollered, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Go, Maddy! Go, Op's! Go Torture Twins, too!
On, Michael! On Nikita! On, all of you!

Take up your positions, and scale that wall!
Now, shoot away! Shoot away! Shoot away All!"

And then in a ruckus, I heard on the street,
Operation's in a tizzy and stomping his feet.

As I listened intently, and tossed in my sleep,
it was George I saw next, falling down in a heap.

Maddy loomed over, her gun still smoking,
Next thing I heard, she and Op's, they were joking.

Operation's was back taking charge of his team,
And he looked so self-righteous, so it would seem.

His eyes how they seered! His dimples how scary!
His cheeks were like leather, his nose made you wary.

His evil little mouth was pursed in a scowl,
And the stubble he grew covered his jowl.

He was ruthless and cunning, and man of some wealth,
And I cringed when I saw him, afraid for myself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.

He sprang to the van, to his op's gave a shout,
And away they all drove, no longer in doubt.

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Hang in there brave fans, don't give up the fight!"

Happy Season 3 to all, and Merry Christmas!


Short Title: LAPD

   Author:   Cops shall burn in Hell
   Email: cops@hell.pit
   Date: 1998/12/17
'Twas the night before Kwanzaa, and all through the slum,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a bum.
The children had braided their cornrows with care,
In the hope that Saint Malcolm would soon be there.

The Crips and the Bloods made their holiday peace;
The protesters protested: "Fuck tha' police!"
The Jews and Koreans hid under their beds,
While visions of rioters danced in their heads.

In a crackhouse, some pipeheads were lighting a rock,
When all of a sudden there came a loud knock.
And what to their wondering eyes did appear,
But Los Angeles' finest in full riot gear!

Boards fell from the doorway and crashed to the floor,
And landed in front of a twelve year old whore.
The cops went to work with their nightsticks in hand,
Swinging at skulls as the Africans ran.

A beating ensued as they tried to escape,
But nobody got it on videotape.
A loud cry was heard as they managed to flee:
"Merry Christmas, you punks, from the L.A.P.D.!"


Short Title: Llamas

Submitted by: Susan Gawarecki
December 2002

This first appeared in the TLC News (the newsletter of the
Tennessee Llama Community) in February of 1998.  Richard Lady and
I owned Lucky Lady Llamas, and we boarded our two adolescent males 
at Twin Ridge Llamas while out of town during Christmas 1997.
--Susan Gawarecki

The Llama-Boys Go To Holiday Camp - An Epic Poem (1)
By Susan Gawarecki, Lucky Lady Llamas
(after The Night Before Christmas, with apologies)

'Twas right before Christmas, and all through the farm
The llamas grazed peacefully, there was no alarm.
The crias played blithely, quite unaware
That Monty and Cuzco soon would be there.
Exel and Challenger(2) both guarded the mamas,
Secure in belief that they were top llamas.
Donna at work and Bandit(3) at play,
Were ready to end a once-peaceful day,
When out in the pasture there came such a noise,
What could it be, but Lucky Lady's llama-boys?
Away to the field Donna dashed in a hurry,
To find the whole herd in a terrible flurry.
The mud on the wool of the newcomers spattered,
And their challenges rang out, the quiet eve shattered.
They fought through the night and the next day, too,
Wreaking havoc and destruction before they were through.
The bedlam was such to wake the dead and the quick,
No doubt they'd scared off the likes of St. Nick.

Like a whirlwind the llama-boys took on the herd,
As if responding to the devil's own words:
Knock down the gate, kick in the wall,
Now jump the fence! chase the girls! misbehave all!"
As young studs inflamed by testosterone's hit,
They rampaged 'cross Twin Ridge, giving Donna a fit.
Cuzco was bloody -- Exel's ear was the source,
Monty escaped -- down the road was his course.

Donna captured and corralled the bad llama-boys,
Who'd deprived her Christmas of seasonal joys.
Dr. Sterling came then, with needle in hand,
To stitch Exel's ear and check out the band
Of muddy tormentors who caused such a mess
And were not the least bit contrite, sad to confess.
They chased and they screamed, they snorted and spit,
They upset the girls, they just wouldn't quit.

No sweet pet llamas, these could not have come 
From Donna or Neal;(4) certainly not either one
Was Cuzco or Monty, rather their evil twins,
Chaos and Mayhem, had somehow slipped in

When Susan did call, Donna held out no hope,
It was clear she was at the end of her rope.
The holiday camp had not been the best,
Instead of a good time, the llamas distressed
The whole farm during this harsh Christmas season
No help could be given by comfort or reason. 

One day Susan and Richard finally came
To take home their boys (demonic possession they blamed).
With apologies and promises of work a week hence,
Repairing the barn and fixing the fence,
Steak dinner, drinks, good company, beer,
An attempt to restore some holiday cheer.
The boys misbehaved, right up to the end.
But Donna was happy when they went round the bend.
And they heard her exclaim as they drove out of sight,

(1) Unfortunately, this was the true story of our boarding experience during Christmas of 1997. Just ask Donna McGlothin.
(2) Donna's studs.
(3) Donna's cat.
(4) Donna sold us Cuzco; Neal Zabkar sold us Monty.


Short Title: Llandview

From: Terry Cromwell (
Subject: GH/OLTL - Terry's Hit List : Twas the week before Christmas 
Date: 2001-12-21 17:40:21 PST 

'Twas the week before Christmas, when all through Llandview
Not a creature was happy... well maybe one or two.
Troy homed in on Lindsay, seduce her he'd dare
The writers quite clueless that we just don't care.

Seth woke up one morning in Natalie's bed
Since the night past, got drunk out of his head.
Mama Vik found him there, cozy deep in nap
And showed restraint not to wake him with a slap.

Still Todd in his corner, made such clatter:
"The baby's not yours, but what does it matter?"
When the truth comes out though, as quick as a flash,
He and Blair again, will come to a clash.

But not just in Llandview were they acting like dopes.
Because, after all, we're talking 'bout Soaps
And over in Port Chuck, all's not as it appears.
Though Mike's storyline's as clear as rain, dear.

And what's up with Bobbie, what the hell was she thinking?
That Christmas Eve dress : You've got to be kidding!
Whatever she wears, it's all of the same,
She beyond salvation this late in the game.

Now Carly! Now Skye! Now Liz and Felicia!
On Jeannine! On Rae! Melissa and Laura!
Please don't stick around 'til the next nurse's ball
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Please do me a favor and blow away Skye!
While I'd like more Lucky, the old, not the new...
And I'd do the same for Nikolas too.

And though I did know it, now I have proof
Gia may be pretty, but God what a goof!
She may watch old movies, practice Grace's walk
This girl's gotta learn, just when NOT to talk.

Her advice to Kristina : open mouth, insert foot!
What's next? Her fiance, his brother, a booth?
A candle light dinner, an unspoken pact,
Once these two go there, they'll never look back!

His eyes -- how they twinkle! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks are like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth drawn up like a bow,
How Nick would crawl to him, through rain, sleet and snow;

Much like his cousin would do for Sonny,
Of whom she claims to be just friend and attorney
One look at that smile, how he laughs when she's funny,
A quick glance from him makes her legs turn to jelly.

While I could do better, read a book from the shelf,
I still keep on watching, in spite of myself;
Sometimes I think I'm going out of my head,
But to think about it gives me more to dread;

But this is the season for nice and kind words,
For wishes of love, peace throughout the world
My final hit list of the year should end,
On kind sentiments for my dear RATSA friends.

May love find you and shelter you every day
Bask in your journeys gifts along the way
May a good star shine bright on the ones you hold dear,
Happy Holidays all, and a Happy New Year.



Short Title: London

From: Gwen Love (
Subject: OTP London, England Christmas 
Date: 2003-12-23 09:41:45 PST 

*London, England Christmas*

Twas the night before Christmas,
In England, you know,
the planned tube strike went ahead,
the streets full of snow.

Asleep in their terrace house,
were Charles and Jane,
Dreaming of Christmas dinner
And the weight they would gain.

Not stockings but polished shoes,
At the foot of their beds,
For this was Old Blighty,
What more need be said?

When all of a sudden,
From out the still night,
There came such a ruckus,
It gave Charles such a fright!

And he saw 'cross the Thames,
Like the shot from a gun,
A loaded up red double decker bus,
Come on at a run.

The driver was shouting,
as he drove passed Big Ben,
"Tally Ho, 'Allo Guvna,
What's all this then?"

The driver, in a tux,
And a cummerbund bright red,
Had a matching top hat,
On the top of his head.

As he stepped from the bus,
He was really a sight,
Big fat and round,
His beard curly and white.

He burst into the house,
And the children awoke,
They were both so astonished,
That neither one spoke.

He filled up their polished shoes
With presents galore,
And neither could think
Of a single thing more.

Charles speaking, indirectly,
The way Brits do that's so silly,
Said "Rather sir, I must say, you do look remarkably similar to this
appie reported to be going around the place on nights such as these
nding out presents willy nilly."

"Well, maybe I am he"
Said the fellow with a wink
And he smiled as he gave
His mysterious wink

Then he left in his bus,
pausing to say,
An old English rhyme,
passed down through his day:

"Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat.
Please put a penny in the old man's hat.
If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do.
If you haven't got a ha'penny, then God bless you."

Old Blighty - London
Guvna - Governor (usually a policeman)


Short Title: LordKwanzaaChanukah1

   The Night before Chanukah
 (Lord Kwanzaa Dirty Night Before Chanukah)

'Twas the night before Chanukah, boychicks and maidels
Not a sound could be heard, not even the dreidels
The Menorah was set on the chimney, alight
In the kitchen, hot Bubba gechapt a bite

Salami, pastrami a glezele tay
And zoyereh pickles with bagels, oy vay!
Gezunt and geschmack, the kinderlach felt
While dreaming of taiglach and Chanukah gelt

The clock on the mantelpiece away was tickin'
And Bubba was having a shtickele chicken
A tumult arose like thousands of broches --
Da drech stinky Lord Kwanzaa had fallen and broken his toches.

I shot on my slippers- eins, tsvei, drei
While Bubba was now on the herring and rye
I grabbed for my bathrobe and buttoned my gotkes
While Bubba was busy devouring the latkes.

To the window I ran, and to my surprise
Ugly fat stinky Kwanzaa greeted my eyes.
Then he got to the door and saw the Menorah,
"Oy, Yiddishe kinder" he said, "Kain ein horeh,

I thought I was in a goyishe hoise.
But before I leave dis vill be meine whorehoise.
But as long as I'm, here, I'll play with your daughters, titties and toys"
And before I leave I'll be der only pimp regular goy.

With wonder, I asked, "I kanna belief! Du bist a Yid?"
"Avada - Mein ander nomen is Grinch Schnorrer Claus, kid"
"Come into the kitchen, I'll get you a dish,
But please stop sucking on my daughters tits

I'll get you goppel, a messer, a shtickele fish
and dishes more tasty than my daughters stink sitz
With smacks of delight, he started his fressen,
Chopped liver, knaidlach and kreplach gegessen.

Along with his meal, he had a few schnapps;
When it came to eating, this fat black boy was the tops.
He asked for some knishes with pepper and salt,
But they were so hot, he yelled "Oy Gevalt"

Unbuttoning his haizen he rose from the tisch,
And said, "Your Kosher essen is simply delish."
But now I must taste of your daughters small tits,
and play for awhile with der furry fishes."

When done he went to the door, he said "See you later.
I liked all the food and your daughters are taters!
I'll be back next Pesach, in time for the Seder".
More rapid than eagles, his sewer rats they came,

Pulling a big heavy watermelon all just the same
He whistled and shouted and called them by name;
"Now Izzy, now Morris, now Yitzchak, now Sammy,
Now Irving and Maxie, and Moishe and Mannie."

He gave a geshrei as he drove out of sight:
"Gooten Yontiv to all, and to your daughters good night."

-- Submitted by Frank J. Hermann


Short Title: LordKwanzaaChanukah2

          Yankel's Chanukah
 (Lord Kwanzaa Dirty Night Before Chanukah 2)

'T was the night before Chanukah, as it is said
Oy vey, Did I dream of da big fat dark Lord Kwanzaa
And of all his horrible schemes,
In Afrika he was squatting and hocking his head
All his dildoes and sex toys spread out on his bed
He had all his stolen toys wrapped up nice in his zeckels
For maidlach and boys he gave not one peckel

The sewer rats were saddled and the giant watermelon ready to fly
Like a crew of dreck stink arab astronauts all through the sky
But Lord Kwanzaa was starving to eat a good meichel
Some regular food that would stick to his beichel

Not plum cakes nor turkey or mincemeat or peppermint candy
But some kosher cooking he thought would be dandy
So he called to his sewer rats, "Hey, kinder, let's go
To a Jewish balbusta and don't be so slow."

My house had no chimney, so he crashed through the door
And farted at the mezzuzah and jumped on the floor
To the man of the house said, "You rich Jewish devil
Come on, don't be shy, my pecker vants to revil,
pull down your baggy pants, and raise your moon high,
and I'll screw all your daughters before I say Good-bye!"

The night is still early, there's plenty of zeit
Before I leave here I may even mount up on your wife
I said, "If only we knew you were coming, by gosh
I'd call out the wife and she'll give you a nosh,
but what she calls good screwing all others call bosh,
so I'll get you my daughters, even I've had a nosh!"

He then ate slice of stuffed derma, a few little strudels
Some chicken salami, some flanken with noodles
Some blintzes, some kreplach, some lox and bialy
A bissel chopped herring, an end piece of chaleh

All of these goodies don't fill up his fat gatkes
So last but not least, he came to the Chanukah latkes."
"A latke?" cried Kwanzaa, "what is this delight?"
On the outside it's crisp and inside it's white.
On the outside so crisp and inside it's so yummy
And he gobbled them up 'til he filled his big fat tummy.

My daughters came down in their nighties so lacy,
he played with their titties to make them more racy,
Then my daughters gave him a dreidel and did they show him the plays
they all played strip dreidel, and screwed till unable
then he brought out old Eveready and screwed 'em to the tables

He used the menorah to light up his plays
And said he'd never had a better time in all of his days
And then to giv'em some more spirit and to show how he felt
He  bum-fu*ked'em  with dildoes, t'is with girls Kwanzaa dealt,
For mazel my daughters thanked him, giving him kisses and spare dreidels,
helped him get his clothes on and tie up his belt,
and then they gave him all my Chanukah gelt.


He beamed and he chuckled and said "Kine-ahaora,
I don't want you to feel like The Chanukah Schnorrer
To show you how much I enjoyed your fine Jewish pack
I'm taking from you everything, leaving you sacked!"

Then he called to his giant sewer rats and said, "Luz mir gehn."
And each one got ready as he schlepped on the rein
"Giddyap Irving, Hoo Ha Sidney, Hi ho Sadie, Let's go Minnie,
Onward Gussie, Upward Solly, Ole Becky, Oy Vey Molly."
And they swore that he yelled as he rode out of sight
"MERRY LATKES" to all, I visited Yankel's home tonight."

Oy Vey I awoke from this terrible dream,
but Chanukah morning did my daughters all scream,
"Vee vant Lord Kwanzaa not the schnorrers we've seen!"

-- Submitted by Frank J. Hermann


Short Title: LordKwanzaaChristmasTurkey

'Twas the night before Christmas, The Turkey Dinner Day, when everyone's tired
Not a creature was stirring, peace was desired
The stuffing was prepared, like the salads, with care
In hopes that this year we'd have a better affair

Everything had been made, but the turkey, I said
And visions of past years still danced in my head
Brother, who helped out, was not dressed to leave
But I had to get out, that Christmas eve
I didn't know what to do, or where I would go
Anyplace but the kitchen, but where, I don't know
So I left the house, and got out to the street
Not thinking who else out there I could meet

It was so chilly, my breath frosted in air
The beauty of winter seemed upon us, I swear
Then what happened next, I'm not really sure
A tiny stove appeared, it's features demure,
drawn by eight tiny possums, all mangy, but furred
A clutter-free rangetop! My soul had been stirred
I knew right that second, my  prayer's been heard
It was hot where the stove made a blistering flame
Then it roared and shouted as it called out the possum's names:
"Now Westinghouse, Now G.E., Now Litton, now Moffat!
On Craftsman, On Sears, On Danby! On Amana!
From the stovetop and at base of the wall
Now burn it up, burn it up, burn it up, all!"

As chefs had before me, I heeded its word
I thought of ways I could torch up that bird
So off to my house, in a rush I had run
To cook that turkey before up came the sun

But, to my surprise I never made it there
I stopped as I saw a bird appear in the air
As I drew all my breath, I stood there in rage
I wondered how he got there, and what was his age
He was dressed in all gray from his head to the ground
And a gray sweater wrapped his waist all around
A gray cotton jacket rested on his arm
And he looked like a nut, from the funny farm
His eyes, how they were dim! His smile, how wicked!
He was flapping about, he smelled like a deathbed
His face was covered with pus that was thick
And the rest of his features were equally sick
A sharp little knife he held tight in his hand
He looked a bit crazy, so quickly I planned
I'd jump out of there, swiftly running away
I'd go home rather fast, get away from the fray

Slamming the door as I came, things fell off a shelf
I thought I went crazy, lost control of myself
A talking stove and dressed up bird! Too much for me!
I wondered to myself, how on Earth could this be
I was not going nuts, I'm still sure of today
Even if all the things I saw were not OK
Then taking my coat off and removing my shoes
I decided to check out a TV for the news
I turned it on and saw the most frightful thing
A roasting turkey was dancing, flipping over wing to wing
And then it spoke, as my face had turned white:
And what I heard gave me a great fright,
"Out of the Great Watermelon Patch he rose,
and on tippy toes,
Lord Kwanzaa Mfume has kidnapped me,
For me in the stove he did see
To Afrique I'll be taken,
there to feed dictators and Generals who rule people shaken,
Woe betide you all, he'll be back so take fright,
This Christmas he's seen to it you'll have no great butterball culinary delight."

-- Submitted by Frank J. Hermann


Matthew Monroe in Richland, WA

Last Modified January 7, 2007