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: Military11(AirForce_ThreeWire) From: navyg8r (navyg8r@earthlinkREMOVETHIS.net) Subject: santa and 3 wire Newsgroups: comp.sys.ibm.pc.games.flight-sim Date: 1998/12/25 'Twas the night before Christmas out here where I am. Not a creature was stirring, not even Saddam. The stockings were hung in the ready room with care, in hopes that care packages soon would be there. The J.O.'s were snuggled in their racks nice and tight, Wishing to sleep until noon with all their might. I closed my eyes & settled down in my rack we had just completed our most recent night trap. When out on the roof we heard such a clatter that we clambered on deck to see what was the matter. Away to the kneeknocker we flew like a flash, I tripped on my flip-flops and opened quite a gash. The moon was as big as my now swollen knee And we squinted against it's glare upon the sea When, what at 3/4s of a mile should appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. The driver called the ball "Santa Ball Ho Ho Ho" We watched and we waited as he got a too little low. We knew in a moment that it must be St. Nick Because none of us could fix a low ball that quick. He planted it nicely on the three a with care And glanced at the LSO's as if with a dare. With a twinkle in his eye he received his debrief When he heard the words "No Grade" he stood in disbelief. "You don't need to be Santa Clause, for I am he, But don't wait too long for something under your tree. After a pass like that on the eve of Christmas Day You'd think that even Santa might get an OK!" He threw his gift sack on his back, in a huff Saying "I can't believe the Navy puts up with this stuff." He mellowed a bit as he got down below And started to chuckle, there was even a glow. From ready room to ready room he went lickity split. Filling our stockings and chatting a bit. Telling us of our families and friends far apart How they were keeping us in prayers and close to their hearts. As his sack began to empty, his work here all done, He bounded to the roof and to Catapult one. He rogered the weight board and readied his sleigh, With a push of the button he'd soon be on his way. "Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN! On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONDER and BLITZEN! Pay attention to what you're doing, this is no time to forget, If things don't go perfect, we ALL end up wet! A salute to the Officer, who then touched the deck. We watched Santa's head nearly snap off his neck. But we heard him exclaim as he rose out of sight "I AM GLAD I DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS EVERY NIGHT." We thought we had seen the last of the old guy Until the Boss said "Clear him for one more fly by." He came from bow to stern, an impressive sight Yelling "MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT." ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Military12(Iraq) From:Roberta Pollerana (bbmom) Sent: Wednesday, December 14, 2005 9:44 PM With Fidelity I Tread 'Twas a few weeks before Christmas, when all thro' the land We prayed that not a child go hungry as we serve in the sand The emails and care packages sent for support With hopes and prayers to safely reach war ports The politicians rumbled and grumbled some lied all well fed While visions of democracy and peace filled our heads As the malls gouged some whispered Merry Christmas Shoppers charged ACLU surged protesters sang dogmas Afghanistan and Iraq our brave wield the sword of truth for our land God bless our troops behold it's for liberty and justice we stand Away with the words of folly, not in war can we be jolly It's our families that live and die, remind little Molly The winter has come again with 160,000 serving Set an extra place at your table as you enjoy your holiday feast Set it as a reminder for those grieving and feel lonely with no peace As you share holiday cheer remember our lost forever to us dear With a little more prayer and a lot more faith Maybe there go I ... By the grace of God Maybe the world will understand with fidelity I tread foreign sod Everyday I'm proud to serve I'll give my life to do my job Now... Pray for my family! Now... Pray for world leaders! Back to Baghdad I go... Many roads lined with IED's Maybe I'll make it home to where free men roam Maybe not... Just know it's for your freedom I've fought I've done my job and done it well I've helped to build I've loved I've sent my enemy to hell I've done my country proud buried brothers in tear soaked shrouds Decorate your tree I'll be the soldier praying to Jesus on my knees Sing Christmas songs to your children tell them lullabies Remember me as I soar though the bomb ridden desert sky As a sand fly bites again my boots are dusty and the MRE's stink Say another prayer for us to heal and think before you speak Well dressed in camouflage no Santa suits for us We won't be home to build our children's bikes no hugs to share We'll be shooting and engaging in combat tis warfare Think of us as you hang stockings with your lo ved ones near My eyes filled with sand and blood have lost their twinkle I've almost forgot it's time to be merry only tears here sprinkle Still I'm reminded a Savior was born unto us Tell Mama I remember that and not to fuss Another ebullient election comes to tell of the sum Total and tally votes our pledge of democracy warriors drum Leaders oil pledged on, America plead mercy from God we so yearn For peace... For hatred to cease, how long until we learn Jesus holy Son born in a manger we say Merry Christmas For all He died ... For all He rose As you count your blessing and share yule tides We're off again going in another up-armored humvee ride We follow orders and serve as an anodyne In a war torn country we see subterfuge and are not blind We're doing our best making a difference in time Read between the rhythms and rhyme of my lines Support our troops... Pray for every nation one and all Ask God to come back to America as you deck the hall Then maybe if I come back the VA won't be so stacked Remember to visit the vets in hospitals healing on a rack Just keep sending the billets-doux That way I know your still thinking of me Give my love to all and wish them a Merry Christmas Tuck them in tight until I come home I pray you a good-night With Fidelity I Tread ~ By Roberta Pollerana A Marines Daughter A Soldiers Mother God Bless Our Brave ~ MY RENDITION OF 'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS' © 2005 Roberta Pollerana (All rights reserved) http://thestarlitecafe.com/poems/94/poem_799959.html http://www.bigbearmom.com ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: MilitaryDesertStorm From: Jon Wilson (wilson@b11.ingr.com) Subject: 'Twas the Night Before Desert Storm Newsgroups: rec.humor, alt.desert-shield Date: 1991-01-17 06:55:42 PST 'Twas the Night Before Desert-Storm 'Twas the night before Desert-Storm and all through Iraq Not a weapon was stirring not even a track. When up, in the air, there arose such a clatter Saddam jumped from bed to see what was the matter. He whipped up the window, threw open the sash - And was narrowly missed by Iraqi ack-ack! And what before his bloodshot eyes should ensue, But an attack by Eagles, and some Tornadoes too. In nap-of-the-earth the fighters they came. They bombed as they went, and they kicked ass by name! "Hey Mohammed! Hey Abdullah! Hey Terik-the-sleaze! Here's a Maverick, some Snakeyes, napalm if you please!" Missile batteries, command posts, the pilots zapped them with ease - "Who said this was tough? With Pave Tack it's a breeze!" Then to the palace they turned and they let their bombs fly All the while screaming "Death from the sky!" One bomb, it was targeted down the chimney and flue- Not a mean feat with a Mark Eighty-two! The windows, they shattered the chimney, it fell And Saddam cleaned his trousers while the bombers raised hell. The aircrews yelled back as they streaked out of sight, "If it makes you feel better we'll be bombing all night!" -Jonathan Wilson ingr!b11!wilson@uunet.uu.net ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: MilitaryFtCampbell from http://www.humorspace.com/humor/holidays/cfort.htm Written by: Luke Blaser (Military Police Officer at Ft. Campbell) Twas the night before Christmas, and all over post everybody was speeding, and all loved to boast. As they sped out the gates, they shouted with glee, "The MPs are slow, they'll never catch me." With my book full of tickets, and radar in hand, I set out to write every knob in the land. I scratched my forehead, and pondered a bit, Texas and Chaffee is where I would sit. I'd no sooner set up, and tested the gun when I heard the whining of the faithful K-1. Then 20, then 30, then 40, then more, I reached for the radio, "Stop outbound Gate 4." With my blue lights a flashing, I raced towards the gate in hopes that I would not be too late As I pulled in behind it, I stared with dismay. The guys at the gate had stopped a red sleigh. I bit my lip, as I said with a sneer, "traffic stop...gate four, ...on nine tiny deer." He was a jolly fat man, dressed all in red, with empty beer cans piled up in his sled. His nose was bright red, his eyes twinkled a bit, it was not hard to tell that Santa was lit! "Santa, you've got no license for your sleigh or your deer. Step out of the sled and move to the rear." He failed every test, then did he fuss, with a mouth like a sailor, he started to cuss. He was cursing at me, and cursing at others, and then made a comment concerning my mother. "Santa," I said, "You don't deserve any slack put your hands on the trunk and walk your feet back." He started to boil and then acted tough so we spun him around and slapped on the cuffs. As I cuffed him I heard him say to himself, "You're just hassling me because I'm an elf." Kicking and fighting we threw him in back, impounded his sleigh and took his reindeer to SAC. When we got to the station, he was raising all hell and it shook the whole building when he was thrown in the cell. He wanted a lawyer and he blew a two-four and then Mrs. Claus showed up at the door. He left with his wife, in a very quiet way, and we gave him back his deer and the sleigh. The news would soon spread, all over the land, about the night at Ft. Campbell, when Santa got slammed. And I was the bad guy, some people would say for stopping the old elf in his bright crimson sleigh. And I heard him shout as they drove out of sight, "Don't expect any toys under your tree tonight!" admin@humorspace.com ©1997 Humor Space ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: MilitaryStarWarsDefense Subject: JOKE-RATED:20th CENTURY CHRISTMAS From: RAINYbowDate: 1997/12/08 Message-ID: <348BB1B9.4EE0CBA6@communique.net> Newsgroups: mpc.lists.misc.giggles X-Mas in the 20th Century 'Twas the night before Christmas -- the very last one when the blazing of lasers destroyed all of our fun. Just as Santa had lifted of, driving his sleigh, A satellite spotted him making his way. The Star Wars Defense System -- Reagan's desire Was ready for action, and started to fire. The laser beams criss-crossed and lit up the sky Like a fireworks show on the Fourth of July. I'd just finished wrapping the last of the toys When out of my chimney there came a great noise. I looked to the fireplace, hoping to see St. Nick bringing presents for Missus and me. But what I was next was disturbing and shocking A flaming red jacket setting fire to my stocking. Charred reindeer remains and a melted sleigh-bell Outside burning toys like confetti they fell. So now you know, children, why Christmas is gone The Star Wars computer had got something wrong. Only programmed for battle, it hadn't a hear 'Twas hardly a chance it would work from the start. I couldn't be tested, and no one could tell If the crazy contraption would work very well. So after a trillion or two had been spent The system thought Santa a Red missile sent. So kids dry you tears now, and get off to bed There won't be a Christmas -- since Santa is dead. bummer -- :-] RAINY ;-] http://members.wbs.net/homepages/r/a/i/rainybow.html GORT~~~ KLAATU BARADA NIKTO ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: MilitaryStealth Newsgroups: rec.humor Subject: Have A Stealth Christmas Message-ID: <19961220141356.reid@frank_reid.electronics.indiana.edu> From: reid@indiana.edu (Frank Reid) Date: Fri, 20 Dec 1996 14:13 EST Distribution: world Organization: Indiana University from an undisclosed military source... Have A Stealth Christmas Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies, Air defenses were up, with electronic eyes. Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds, As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads. Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube, Was triply-redundant linked to the Blue Cube, And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense, That nothing that flew could slip through our defense. When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter, I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter, I dialed up the gain and then quick as a flash, Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash. And there found the source of the warning we'd heeded, An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded. "Alert status red!" went the word down the wire, As we gave every system the codes that meant "FIRE"! On Aegis! Up Patriot, Phalanx and Hawk! And scramble our fighters -- let's send the whole flock! Launch decoys and missiles! Use chaff by the yard! Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard! They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged, Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged, And the sky was lit up with a demonic light, As the foe met his fate in the high arctic night. So we sent out some recon to look for debris, Yet all that they found, both on land and on sea, Were some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot, Broken sleighbells, white hair, and a deer's parachute. Now it isn't quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down. There are unhappy kids in each village and town. For the Spirit of Christmas can't hope to evade, All the web of defenses we've carefully made. Just look how the gadgets we use to protect us, In other ways alter, transform, and affect us. They keep us from things that make life more worth living, Like love for each other, and thoughts of just giving. But a crash program's on: Working hard, night and day, All the elves are constructing a radar-proof sleigh. So let's wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health, For the future has hope: Santa's coming by stealth! ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Militia Subject: A Militia Christmas Poem From: Mike PietDate: 1997/12/09 Message-ID: <881635801$31308@black-helicopter.psychetect.com> Newsgroups: misc.activism.militia Forwarded with permission from the author Carolyn Hart. Mike Pietrantoni --- From: cdhart@laurie.net (Carolyn Hart) I included this poem in the December issue of NECESSARY FORCE, the monthly newsletter of the Missouri 51st Militia. Hope you like it! - Carolyn THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS - MILITIA STYLE! By Carolyn D. Hart Twas the night before Christmas And all through the land, Not a gun was unloaded, Not even the Garand. The MREs were nestled In their backpacks with care, With hopes that they wouldn't Become needed fare. The old Bronco waited With tanks full and level. The CB and shortwave Were ready and able. Under the tree There were bright glints of brass And masks to protect From the haze of teargas. Then outside the house, There came such a clatter. We sprang from our beds To see what was the matter. There in the yard, To be seen by us all Was a large group of men Who were ready to brawl. They were dressed all in black From their heads to their feet. Their faces were covered By ski masks quite neat. They had full auto weapons And flashbang grenades. They had tanks and black helos, To make us afraid. But when one quick, short call To the pagers was made, Within one or two hours Hundreds came to our aid. Militia and patriots From near and from far, Came to stand by our side Gainst the ATF czar. So many had gathered To face down the foe, That they loaded their things And away they did go. And I heard them exclaim, As they drove out of sight, "Damn those militia-- They're too ready to fight!" Our Christmas was merry In spite of the scare Because we had taken The time to prepare. We will not be frightened By government force. Like the militia of old We *will* stay the course. ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: MiscHealthAlternative Author: Aaron Andrew Fox Email: aaf19@columbia.edu Date: 1998/12/23 Forums: misc.health.alternative My annual Christmas poem for m.h.a., and sayonara. AF "An Alternative Night Before Christmas" Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the 'net Commerce was swirling, 'mongst the cyberish set Connections were made to the servers with glee And complaints were scarce heard, 'cept at some ISPs Under dozens of trees, and in millions of 'hoods Lay computers in boxes, and peripheral goods Printers, and scanners, and monitors too Soon would be connected, bringing netizens new And in millions of hearts, lay hopes of great wealth Money and freedom, new friends, and good health Web pages were planned, some with java, some plain Selling potions and pills to ease all sorts of pain Among internet oldsters, the agony grew Sure in the knowledge of what Christmas would do Millions of newbies, full of potential . . . The dumbing down, so it seemed, would be exponential Checks they were written, card numbers were sent Legions of suckers were late with their rent With anxieties soother by Kava and Wort And a fully booked docket in each small claims court The sellers of silver and magnets were ready Picturing cash falling round like confetti The sellers of zappers, the peddlers of herbs Readied shipments of products for the cities and 'burbs Products for weight loss, for fatigue, and for phlegm All bundled with care by each new MLM Ad copy was written, with misspellings galore And tiny disclaimers you are meant to ignore Ranting indictments of sciency ways Knowing talk of conspiracy at the old FDA Supplement-soaked and Ephedrine fueled, With visions of parasites in everyone's stool The Formans, Aryans, HerbAssists, and the rest Were honing their knives and beating their chests As new CPUs were unpacked from each box New Pentium IIs could be aimed at A. Fox (Sorry, I couldn't resist) Coffey was brewing his downunder plan To sell Kava Kava in his dear Arnhem Land Aboriginal people in the cities, awaited, you see Big pots of Kava under their Christmas trees Herby kept swearing there was no HIV And that AIDS was just caused by too much AZT And Mike'O insisted our bowels were too full Denied all the evidence such claims were bull Selah was plotting a group, moderated Where no differing views would be tolerated Conspiracy theories alone would be heard And seldom would sound a rational word Mercury fillings, vaccines, and flouride Would all be exposed, would all be decried As pharmaceutical corporate satanic plots Would finally be proven to cause liver spots As snow fell on Texas, and the sun burned the north Millions of emails and postings went forth To the chat rooms and newsgroups each newbie announced His hope that the AMA soon would be trounced Spam-covered screens, and snow covered trees And colloidal cocktails, and magnets on knees No sickness, no death, just Life Extension At the misc.health.alternative (moderated) convention But that's all in the future, not yet realized Just sugar plums dancing in alternative eyes So let's leave all the dreams to the great Y2K And come back to this lovely bright pre-Christmas day As Christmas grows nearer, all through each house Hard drives are stirring, with each click of the mouse On Compaq, and Gateway, on Acer and Dell On Sony, on Apple, and on Packard Bell On Hitachi, Toshiba, Winbook, and HP On IBM Thinkpad, and on AST On WebTV, AOL, Earthlink, Sprint, MCI But for this veteran netter, it's, for now, goodbye With peaceful best wishes, for good health for each I'll tune in again, in perhaps a few weeks Fight on Dr. Harris, fight on Yarrow, and Wright Merry alternative Christmas, and to all a good night! ho ho ho! AF ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: MiscWriting1 Subject: MWV: The Night Before Christmas From: lutz@bellatlantic.net (The Last Real Marlboro Man) Date: 1997/12/19 Message-ID:Newsgroups: misc.writing 'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the 'ville The wit was subdued and The flamers were still. The scratching of pencil On paper had ceased - The clatter of typewriter keys Had decreased To a level of quiet Not normally heard While computer screen-savers Blinked "do not disturb". The Spirit of Christmas Had entered unbidden To find that true feelings Remained mostly hidden By pseudonyms, screen names And false bravado - The MW people seemed Loathe to let go And let Christmas be Christmas All fuzzy and warm. Allowing instead Daily pressures to swarm Until nothing is left Of the feelings we had As children - and then Pat Remembered her dad. The Spirit of Christmas then Came flooding back And reminded us all that The spirit we lack Has nothing to do with Material things, But with memories of Love That the holidays bring. But when memories fade And we're feeling alone We dare not forget that We're making our own Memories to be cherished By those who love us - Those budding young writers who in us do trust. As darkness descends And Kate turns out the lights And the Spirit of Christmas Prepares to take flight Grab on to her wings; Don't let go, hold on tight. Merry Christmas to all, And to all a good night. - Wayne (Ok, so I never claimed to be a poet.) ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: MiscWriting2 Author: The Judge Email: iceberg@iw3p.com Date: 1998/12/23 Forums: misc.writing The Judge's Christmas Poem 1998 Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except for... DECK, sniping from the hall, and MARY LINCOLN, up against the wall. And JACK was being nimble though he wasn't being QUICK, while SAL was searching frantically for DAVE'S tetractyc stick. PAUL was glaring smartly at MARTY being arty, while ALMA'S puns were leaving ARI'S chest a'heaving. BILLO with his pointer was proving JAYNE'S detractors oinkers, as PAYNE-RON snickered slyly at EPITOME'S smileys. LUCY in the sky, watching diamonds by and by, and ALEX in the nude, raised their voices ever higher (with KATHIE MEYER) in PASTORIO'S oratorio choir. LAVINA couldn't be finah, nor HARPER as cute as BRYNA, though GLYNNE was upholding babehood in WENDY'S Republican neighborhood. CAROL showed The Pants (Wow!), and TOMCAT supplied the ants, (and ZERO the rants), while DOUG remained the Daddy, and DON drove GENO batty. HOWARD winked at MELANIE, while WAYNE flexed for ERIN, leaving MAMA N without a care in The world according to JENSEN. PETE abandoned The Deanery to show STAN some carroty scenery, but SAMME revealed What Am as PIRHANA devoured the spam and KEN handled the HI-JENKS. BJORN returned from Sweden to bring DAVIDA some chocolate eatin', while BUD wrote better poetry (than this!) for CAT and MCLAUGHLIN'S notary, and all stood in awe of the literary manna from the incomparable ANNA (BANANA). Now the buffet is spread, and the prayers read, but it wouldn't be complete, before we eat, without CRUSADER THE RABBIT, and DAN GOODMAN'S library habit, or DONNA DOYLE'S float of ERIC EALES'S boat, and LARS EIGHNER and SHARON'S teachings, and KURT'S Hoosier reachings, and LEON'S zingers, and MABEAR'S ringers, SUE D'S goodies, and TOTTY'S booties to panhandling literary rudies. And though it's late on the clock, and last but not least, how can we feast without the Welcome Waggin' from the MW Webmaven, STEPHANIE KWOK? Now I've come to the end (bet you thought I wouldn't) And I know I've missed some names that I shouldn't But the night draws ever nigher, and even the GREAT INTERNET WRITER Has to listen to his readers When they call for an end To this lame pentameter. Best of luck to you all, whenever you write Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and to all, a good night! ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: ModelAirplane From: IFly (andrewNOSPAM@maldima.com) Subject: My Christmas Poem Newsgroups: rec.models.rc.air Date: 2001-12-24 11:58:41 PST 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hangar Not an engine was running, not even a four banger; All the windsocks were hung by the workbench with care, In the hopes that new model parts soon would be there; The modellers were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of aircraft did loops in their heads; And my wife dreaming quietly of new gardening things; I laid there hoping for gifts that had wings. When out on the lawn there arose such a noise, Louder than the engines in my RC toys; Away to the window I flew like a jet, I couldn't run faster, not on a bet. The house lights shining on the new fallen snow, Made it look like a flyby, o'er the objects below; When what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a miniature aircraft. had I drunk to much beer? It dashed and it danced and it pranced like a star, Better than my planes, yes better by far; Over the porch. then over the wall; The plane kept on climbing. It just wouldn't stall. I was amazed how it swept and flew through the sky, That was a plane that I wanted to fly; Up to the rooftop the airplane it flew, Someone is flying it, someone, but who? And then with a buzzing I heard on the roof, Who could it be? I need some proof. As I turned away from the window ledge, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with an Edge. My eyes. how they bugged out! The plane was so sporty, I could hardly believe he brought an Edge 540. On the tail of the plane there was tied a big bow, With everything installed it was ready to go. He spoke not a word and went straight to his work, I stood there drooling, and felt like a jerk; And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his airplane, and to me gave a laugh, "You can fly it tomorrow just don't crash the aircraft", But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight, "MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND CHARGE IT BEFORE FLIGHT!" Have a great holiday season everyone. -- Andrew Donatelli http://www.donatelli.net ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: ModelRailroad1 Subject: The Night Before Christmas (yet another bad parody) From: aharman@one.removethis.net (Andy Harman) Date: 1997/12/17 Message-ID: <34974ed9.81323000@news.one.net> Newsgroups: rec.models.railroad Twas the night before Christmas and all through the newsgroup the airwaves were quiet just SPAM and troll poop Andy was finishing his Chicago page before all the netizens lynched him in rage Lubliner settled on couch with a beer thinking of A-units, maybe next year Terry was sprawled on the floor half the day to keep his goods wagons from floating away and Johnny-Ferb Dalton had hair tonic and gin in case old Santy-Claus needed a trim Hiroshi and Toshi conferred over brew said "let's fool them all with an Ingalls S2" Freddie and Frankie stayed up until dawn could it be for the loco they're not working on? I've always been told if it quacks it's a duck hey Brian, that's not a train it's a truck! Containers and reefer vans built to fine codes not too much trouble for scale flatcar loads So I settled and put on my thick winter socks tried to steer clear of my 95 box and actually run a train without fail instead of answering another email When all of a sudden I heard such a noise that I ran to the basement and called for the boys and what should I see to confirm my worst fears but an Athearn widebody equipped with Ernst gears! It didn't let up but continued to work it lurched like a yo-yo then stopped with a jerk admitting my failure with humble aplomb I packed up my gear sets and mailed them to Tom Then I hitched up my superfleet all on one train wondering if Wangrow could handle the strain I punched setup/consist and when the prompt came I keyed all my engines in, each one by name 6121, Toosh dah that's lowered 2746, hi-nosed and blowered 7130 with ditch lights from Leonard's it runs pretty well with Overland innards Brass SD70 not quite like Eddie's but it will do till the Athearn is ready finish the consist so we can set sail with an EL gas guzzler with a 5-foot boat tail As I coupled the consist to the first hi-cube car I suddenly thought, "I forgot my cigar!" With Zippo, Havana, and an etched glass ashtray I pushed on the throttle knob, ready to play The train started to move, but soon would abort the light on the console was red-- a dead short and then I hear laughter, 'cause over the rail my brother was holding a 3-inch steel nail I could reply and stood there aghast remembering this trick from Christmases past as he ran up the stairs I heard him exclaim "You're 40 now but some things stay the same!" Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, may 1998 be free of lumpy paint and dead shorts.... Andy Visit the Prototype Modelers Group Web Page at http://w3.one.net/~aharman/index.html Sorry I must resort to anti-spam practice, reply to aharman at one (spelled out) dot net ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: ModelRailroad2 From: ChromeDome (mot@this.address) Subject: A RR Xmas Newsgroups: rec.models.railroad Date: 2001-12-24 09:57:24 PST The following was posted yesterday on the small layout mailing list. Apparently the author is unknown. - Gene 'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through my pike, Not a steamer was stirring, not even a Mike. My yard tracks invitingly empty and bare, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The diesels were nestled all snug in their sheds, While visions of DCC danced in their heads. While I, in my blue-and-white engineer's cap, Had just settled down for a long winter's nap, When down in the train room, there rose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the basement I flew like an ace, Tripped over the cat and fell flat on my face. I stifled a curse meant for Chessie (the cat), And I muttered to no one, "I meant to do that," When what to my wondering eyes should appear But an HO-scale sleigh and eight Preiser reindeer, With an engineer driving, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than GG-1's, onward they came, And he blew a steam whistle and called them by name: "On Athearn! On Lionel, Kato and Walthers! On Kadee and Micro-Trains, Atlas and others! To the top of the mountains of Hydrocal plaster, Now dash away, dash away, dash away faster!" As dry leaves that behind a new Genesis fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So in through the window the coursers they flew With the sleigh full of trains, and St. Nicholas too. And then, on my roundhouse, I saw on the roof The prints in the dust of each HO-scale hoof. As I drew a deep breathe, and was turning around, From beneath the benchwork, St. Nick came with a bound. He was dressed like an engineer from head to foot, And his clothes had that fine smell of ashes and soot; A bundle of trains he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes - just like marker lights! Dimples, how merry! His cheeks like a Warbonnet; nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And his beard was so white; it would please Phoebe Snow. He puffed on a pipe as he refilled its bowl, And the smoke, it smelled just like bituminous coal. He had a broad face and a belly (I found) That shook like a tank car with wheels out-of-round. He was chubby and plump, and I wanted to shout, "Yes! The man's got a route the UP can't buy out!" A wink of his eye as he passed near the door Soon gave me to know I'd have freight cars galore. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work. He filled all my yard tracks; then turned with a jerk, And leaving an airbrush he'd found on eBay, And giving a nod, he returned to his sleigh. He pumped up the brakes, blew two blasts on his whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL! KEEP 'EM ROLLING! GOOD-NIGHT!" ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: ModelRailroad3 Subject: Modelers Christmas From: "mhowell"Date: 1997/12/24 Message-ID: <01bd107e$2e816e80$61f21dce@marv> Newsgroups: rec.models.scale With all disrespect to the Original Twas the night before Christmas, Conditions were drastic, For Santa was smothered with orders for Plastic, Workbenches were cleaned off-tools laid out with care In hopes that new models would soon be made there. The modelers dreamed in grays, blues and reds, Acrylics, enamels, pastels in their heads, Revelogram, AM and VLS stuff, were excellent choices, Is there ever enough? While on r.m.s. there were rumors and chatter, I said to myself "does it really all matter?" I book-marked a website and opened a beer, When an item of interest began to appear. A wonderful model was coming around, with details and etched brass and things air- to- ground. It had engraved panels, and fiddly bits, It was accurate- nifty- the zenith of kits. I typed out a post , I would cover all bets, I wanted some sources from good old Charles Metz. AlbatrosDv came through like a Champ, He'd built it last week, the paint was still damp. I pulled up home pages as fast as I could Denbigh might have it, at least Squadron would. I typed out my order, and then with a flick, I gave credit card numbers to good old St. Nick. He smiled and recorded, And said "You'll remember" Though they said it was here, "It will be next September." So he marked it "pre-order" and my screen went all blank, I was left in confusion, my puter went "Clank" I woke the next morning, -There were presents galore, There were aircraft and ships and armor and more. Here was Hobbycraft, VLS, Monogram, Novo and Airfix, Air Classics, AM and Kendal and even a book by an author named Drendel. And I said to myself as I sat midst this mess, What a wonderful time, I must post r.m.s. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL RMSers, POSTERS, FLAMERS, LURKERS, EXPERTEN AND NEWBIES. MARV ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Mom Off of the parentsoup page --- THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS FOR MOMs --- It was the night before Christmas, when all thru the abode only one creature was stirring, and she was cleaning the commode. The children were finally sleeping, all snug in their beds, while visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie, flipped through their heads. The dad was snoring in front of the TV, with a half-constructed bicycle on his knee. So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter, which made her sigh, "Now what's the matter?" With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand, she descended the stairs, and saw the old man. He was covered with ashes and soot, which fell with a shrug. "Oh great," muttered the mom, "Now I have to clean the rug." "Ho-ho-ho!" cried Santa, "I'm glad you're awake." "Your gift was especially difficult to make." "Thanks, Santa, but all I want is some time alone." "Exactly!" he chuckled, "I've made you a clone." "A clone?" she asked, "What good is that? Run along, Santa, I've no time for chit-chat." Sure enough, it was the mother's twin. Same hair, same eyes, same double chin. "She'll cook, she'll dust, she'll mop every mess. You'll relax, take it easy, watch The Young & the Restless." "Fantastic!" the mom cheered. "My dream come true! "I'll shop. I'll read., I'll sleep a whole night through! " From the room above, the youngest began to fret. "Mommy?! I scared... and I'm wet." The clone replied, "I'm coming, sweetheart." "Hey," the mom smiled, "She knows her part." The clone changed the small one, and hummed a tune, as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon. "You the best mommy ever. "I really love you." The clone smiled and sighed, "I love you, too." The mom frowned and said, "Sorry, Santa, no deal. " That's my child's love, she's trying to steal." Smiling wisely Santa said, "To me it is clear, " Only one loving mother, is needed here." The mom kissed her child, and tucked her into bed. "Thank you, Santa, for clearing my head. I sometimes forget, it won't be very long, when they'll be too old, for my cradle-song." The clock on the mantle began to chime. Santa whispered to the clone, "It works every time." With the clone by his side Santa said, "Goodnight. Merry Christmas, Mom, You'll be all right." ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: MooreCopied Author: Keith Sullivan Email: KSullivan@worldnet.att.net Date: 1998/12/23 Forums: alt.humor TWAS THE NIGHT! By L. Daniel Quinn Twas the night before Thursday And poor Clement Moore Had his poem being copied By many a bore His "Night Before Christmas" Is perfect in rhyme His rhythm and cadence Are wonderfully fine. But then come the wise guys With Internet cool Who use Clement's rhyme As sort of a tool They pick up the style From this poem of "that night" And they hitch up their sled to whatever's their gripe. Now I'm not even saying That there's something not right By using Moore's poem To carry a fight. I guess my complaint Is not in their chore But the number of times they steal from Clem Moore. So I say to you all As I close down this gripe "Merry Christmas to All And to All a Good Night!" Lee Daniel QuinnALPHA Mailing List ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Matthew Monroe in Richland, WA
Last Modified January 7, 2007