Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Variations
Version 2007.1
Part 27 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: Military11(AirForce_ThreeWire)

From: navyg8r (
Subject: santa and 3 wire 
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!
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

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


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
 2005 Roberta Pollerana (All rights reserved)


Short Title: MilitaryDesertStorm

From: Jon Wilson (
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


Short Title: MilitaryFtCampbell

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!"
         1997 Humor Space


Short Title: MilitaryStarWarsDefense

From:         RAINYbow 
Date:         1997/12/08
Message-ID:   <>
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.

           :-]     RAINY     ;-]


Short Title: MilitaryStealth

Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: Have A Stealth Christmas
Message-ID: <>
From:  (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 Piet 
Date:         1997/12/09
Message-ID:   <881635801$>
Newsgroups:   misc.activism.militia

Forwarded with permission from the author Carolyn Hart.    Mike Pietrantoni

From: (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

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
   Date: 1998/12/23
My annual Christmas poem for m.h.a., and sayonara.

"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 (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!


Short Title: MiscWriting1

Subject:      MWV: The Night Before Christmas
From: (The Last Real Marlboro Man)
Date:         1997/12/19
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
   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
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
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 (
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,

Have a great holiday season everyone.
Andrew Donatelli


Short Title: ModelRailroad1

Subject:      The Night Before Christmas (yet another bad parody)
From: (Andy Harman)
Date:         1997/12/17
Message-ID:   <>
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....


Visit the Prototype Modelers Group Web Page at
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,


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

And I said to myself as I sat midst this mess,
What a wonderful time,  I must post r.m.s.




Short Title: Mom

Off of the parentsoup page


  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
   Date: 1998/12/23
   Forums: alt.humor

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 Quinn 
ALPHA Mailing List 


Matthew Monroe in Richland, WA

Last Modified January 7, 2007