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: ProWrestling1

Subject:      Christmas: IYH
From:         Dennis Windley 
Date:         1997/12/22
Message-ID:   <349F03C0.D92BB081@usa.net>
Newsgroups:   rec.sport.pro-wrestling

Happy Holidays Kids,

    I was really bored on Sunday afternoon, and it being close to
Christmas and all, I got some really strange thoughts together. Here's
what it ended up as. If you want to make any comments, drop me an email.
--
Dennis L. Windley Jr.

Christmas: In Your House

'Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the ring,
The Wrestlers were fighting,
"Look out!" yelled the King.

The fans were shouting with signs in the air,
In hopes that Stone Cold would soon be there.
With Shamrock in action and Kane in his mask,
Keeping Jeff Jarrett happy is no easy task.

While Hunter and Chyna lay stunned on the ground,
Shawn turned to see if Owen was 'round.
Then out of nowhere there arouse such a clatter,
The whole crowd turned to see what's the matter.

"Through Hellfire and Brimstone!" shouted J.R.,
While Road Dog and Bad Ass ran out to their car.
Cactus Jack, Dude Love, and Mankind,
Mick Foley was the only challenger we could find.

He pulled everything he could right out of his hat,
But in the end was left sprawled on the mat.
Then what before my eyes did appear,
None other than the Man from the Darkside who knew no fear.

Out from the mist came forth the 'Taker,
Who knew that big Kane was just a faker.
And then we heard the breaking glass,
A loud voice called, "I'll whoop your ass!"

Everyone shouted 'cause the Man was here,
He pulled out in his truck while finishing his beer.
The Rattlesnake climbed up and over the ropes,
And little brother Kane lost all of his hopes.

It took just a second to apply the stunner,
The evil grin showed that nothing was funner.
Austin laughed and gave Kane the bird,
Vince McMahon just sat there, he spoke not a word.

Steve climbed up the turnbuckle and held his arms up high,
The whole world knew you can't touch this guy.
He glared at Vince as he backed up the ramp,
You could tell by his face it made his pants damp.

And if for some odd reason you didn't know,
"That's the bottom line, 'cause Stone Cold said so!"

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Short Title: ProWrestling2

Subject:      Twas the Night Before Starcade
From:         nkay@interlog.com (Nigel Kay)
Date:         1997/12/27
Message-ID:   <683d01$m4q$1@news.interlog.com>
Newsgroups:   rec.sport.pro-wrestling

Twas the Night Before Starcade
And all about the Ring
Not a wrestler was stirring
Not even Sting

The WCW signs
replaced those of NWO
In hopes that the ratings
Don't bomb like last Nitro

The World Title nestled
under Hulk Hogans tree
He thought "Tommorow I will be the star
Just like in Rocky III"

Bischoff and Dillon were
Busy re-writing scripts
While old Flair and Zybysko
hoped to even rise from their beds

When out from the rafters
Where no one could climb
Everyone thought it was Sting
But that's been done too many times

In a black leather jacket
and pink little stripes
Came the Hitman Bret Hart
And his Foundation in tights

"On Neidhart, On Jimmy Hart,
On Bulldog and Benoit
I would have brought Owen
But he still has to do RAW"

And the NWO frowned,
And Bischoff did fret
For his 3 million dollars
Was riding on Bret

Who descended with harness
down into the Ring
Hopefully his bum knee
Would not get caught in the string

His eyes were ablaze
His nose red as bacon
His wrist still smartin'
from the jaw of McMahon

He spoke not a word
And grabbed Savage by the hair
A sharpshooter to him
And then for Scott Hall a steel chair

For Konan and Vincent
A quick snap suplex
A ringpost figure four
Just for good measure on Lex

The Bulldog powerslammed Bagwell
Benoit stomped on Rude's trunk
Neidhart went for Curt Henning
But instead they got drunk

Well all of sudden
The NWO music came on
A little bit of Hendrix
And some smoke and flash bombs

Keven Nash and Hulk Hogan
Walked up to the ring
Hollywood glanced around
just to make sure there's no Sting

They explained to the Hitman
That Vince was a zero
What with his screwjob endings,
Goldust and Marc Mero

They hated him too
So they were on his side
The Hitman Agreed
And everyone cried

The lights suddenly went OUT!
The ring lit up in Flames
Cried Tony, "It's Sting!!"
But it was the Undertaker's brother, KANE!

He chokeslammed and tombstoned
Everyone in the Ring
He took off his mask and
My God, it was Sting!

He sprang to his harness
and was lifted out to the gate
I heard him exclaim
I hope this ups Starcade's buyrate

---
With apologies for bad meter and bad rhymes

Nigel Kay


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Short Title: ProWrestling3

   Author:   HateFueled
   Email: hatefueled@aol.com
   Date: 1998/12/24
   Forums: rec.sport.pro-wrestling.moderated
   
The Night Before Christmas by Stone Cold Steve Austin

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Fed,
not a creature was stirring, not even that dumb bastard Head.
The stockings were hung by the Titantron with care,
in the hopes that St.Nicholas soon would be there;

The wrestlers were nestled all snug in their trunks,
while visions of barbed wire soothed Terry Funk,
And Kane in his mask and I in my vest,
had just settled down, bored from watching Test,

When out in the ring arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the locker room to see what was the matter.
Away to the gorilla spot I flew damn quick,
ready to stomp a mud hole in ol' St. Nick!

The spotlight on the mat of the ring below,
gave luster to the seats in this damn hell hole.
When, what to my rattlesnake eyes do appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight stupid reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and fat,
and an ugly beard, just like X-pac.
More rapid than the Corprate stooges taking blame,
He called,and whistled and shouted by name;
And then in a twinkling I heard on the mat,
prancing and pawing, hell I couldn't give a crap!
As I shook my head and was turning around,
Up to the TitanTron came St.Nick with a bound!

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of foriegn objects he had on his back,
a broomstick, a trash can, even thumb tacks!

His eyes-how they twinkled, his fat dimples merry,
this fat bastard looked like a 300lbs cherry.
His stupid little mouth drew up in a sneer,
as soon as he saw Stone Cold standing here.

And then I noticed he had missing teeth,
and a leather mask encircled his head like a wreath!
He had a broad face and a big damn belly,
that shook as he laughed like a bowlful of jelly,
He was chubby and plump, a Hardcore Kris Kringle,
And leap to the stage with a loud jingle.

I laughed when I saw him, And said "Holy..."
This fat bastards none other than that idiot Mick Foley!
A wink of my eye and a slap in his face,
Stone Cold let him know he was a damn disgrace.

I didn't say a word, and went into his sack,
took out a steel folding chair and nailed him in his back.
A shot to the head, that left a nice dent,
his head was split open, and to the ring I went!

I sprang to the sleigh, the reindeer leaped about ,
but Austin 3:16 says I just knocked their asses out!
And then in the back of the sleigh did I see,
but a big wrapped present, addressed to me,
I tore off the paper, and what did I find?
A case of Steveweiser, from that dumb bastard Mankind!

"Oh, hell yeah!" I said with a grin, as beer soaked suds ran down my chin,
But then the Christmas spirit hit Stone Cold unaware,
As I brought the beer back to the locker room to share,
I passed out the beers to all of the boys, even Sexual Chocolate who had a
vibrating toy,
Then I sucked mine back, and got ready to leave,
when I turned and saw "St.Mick", who was yelling "Hey Steve!"

"I thought we were friends", he said through a blood covered face,
"Sure we are..." I lied,"..but thanks for the case."
"Have you got a present for me?" he said with a twitch,
"Yep. Don't trust anybody, you dumb son of a bitch"
And with a quick kick, I gave him the stunner,
Hell, this Christmas couldn't be much funnier!

So here's the bottom line before I have to go:
Have a Merry Christmas, cause Stone Cold says so!!

Merry Christmas, RSPW-M!
"Dark is not the opposite of light, it is the absence of light."

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Short Title: ProWrestling4

   Author:   Satyr
   Email: ayc@rumba.doh
   Date: 1998/12/21
   Forums: rec.sport.pro-wrestling

   The Night before Christmas (Konnan style)
   
(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

Odelay!!! Twas the night before Christmas... Aribba la razza!!!
Not a homeboy was stirring... They were all at the Plaza
The stocking's were hung on my Chevy's rear window,
An arrow points down...  "Here's what you put the gifts into."

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

My chicas were nestled so snug in their beds
While visions of K-Dogg danced in their heads
I tied up my kerchief and put on my cap
And sat down to write this bouty bouty rap

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

When outside my house there arose such a noise
Was it the return of my rowdy homeboys?
The hour was late, the time seemed to fly by
But, could this be a neighbourhood drive by?

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

My dope tumbled into the fresh fallen snow
In my hurry to open the window below
When what to my bloodshot eyes should appear
But a medium sleigh and eight larger reindeer

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

With a fat little driver, "Hey, whachyu got?"
"You'd better get going before you get shot!!!"
But he didn't listen, and gave me the finger
He called to the reindeer and warned me "Don't linger!"

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

Now, Hogan! Now, Stevie! Now, Scotty and Vincent!
On Buff! On Norton! On Horace... this instant!
To the top of the ropes, to the troops he did call
"Now, run in, run in, run in you all!!!"

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

As luchas during a match tend to fly
I thought it was time to kiss my ass goodbye
So I ran down the stairs in my desparate plight
To avoid a beating by the black and the white

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The shingles were cracking neath the weight of some goof
As I padlocked the door I turned to see
My chimney breaking, it was Tony Schiavone

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his feet
I looked in amazement and said "Man, whatchu eat?!!!"
WCW merchandise he had in his sack
All rumpled like a jobber that Luger had racked

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

More importantly than all that. his face round and hairy
I stared at him twice, he looked awfully scary
He was covered in white... "I fell in the snow!"
"Go back there and find my dope down below!!!"

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

Half of his lunch still clung to his teeth
And the odour encircled his head like a wreath
He had food on his face and a round little belly
He needed a bath... Man, he was smelly!!!

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

He was chubby and plump, his usual self
Tried not to smell him, in spite of myself
A whiff of the air, I started to cry
"Did something crawl into the beard and die?"

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

He spoke not a word, but went straight to the fridge
He filled up his belly, ate all my Cheez Whiz
And taking his finger out of his nose,
And wiping his mouth, up the chimney he rose;

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

He climbed in his sleigh, it started to creak
"Vatos locos!!! Get moving, you fat ugly freek!!!"
Then, I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight
"We're out of time... we'll see you Thursday night!"

(WHOOT! WHOOT!)

    Merry Christmas to everyone on RSPW!!!

                                ///
               Hogan = ( :-[(ll
                                \\\

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Short Title: ProWrestling5

From: Latin Wolf (wolf316@latinwolf.org)
Subject: (Repost) The Night Before Hulkmas 
Newsgroups: alt.pro-wrestling.ecw, alt.pro-wrestling.wcw, alt.pro-wrestling.wwf, rec.sport.pro-wrestling
Date: 2002-12-03 19:30:43 PST 

http://home.earthlink.net/~latinwolf7/xmas302.html

As posted by The Weasel
Date: Fri, 22 Dec 2000 12:26:50 -0800
From: The Weasel 
Organization: The Circus Of Chuff

Newsgroups: rec.sport.pro-wrestling
Subject: [CHRISTMAS] The Night Before Hulkmas

Twas the night before Hulkmas
and all through the dub.
poster's keyboards were clacking,
the group was a hub...

Many mentions of Santa, but more of Ric Flair,
Jack Epstein is jewish, so he didn't care
DrK was at his wall, pulling his pud,
while STUART declared that HeAT was a dud.

TP, Weasel and Draz, the masters of chuff,
were all on the #talk, putting RichieH in a huff,
When off in a thread, there was such a clatter...
DA Juice won't shut up, such inane chatter,

a 10 thread flamewar, such spamlike trash,
Krusty was debating the best way to smoke hash,
Cuckabum and 2x were having less luck.
this new generation didn't know the meaning of "cuck"

Tehawk was confused, going to much pain,
wondering if all the trolls were Damien Cain,
Chad and Alex were locked in a battle,
was alex a redneck? is chad's wife and kids cattle?

Hulka and Shocker were happy, they're be married soon,
both of them dreading the impending honeymoon
out on the #chat. Big Josh was being rude,
digables was away. he had to get food.

ViNNY was busy, counting every vote,
Troll Inc was pre-occupied, battling COAT
t-netz newbies, sorry little tools,
annoyed all of us by declaring "AUSTIN ROOLZ"

"Thank god it's over" the NG all said,
LosFab and JustJoe, sock puppets, both dead.
Ghidzilla in his chair, with fake vampire teeth,
we all hit our killfiles, a post from Scott Keith.

The posters soon tired, and went to their futons,
after a dinner of coke and stale garlic crutons,
Neidhart, Raven and Dogg their careers a sad joke,
Who What and Why, damning the acolyte who entertained the folk

The spammers declared, Trish is nude at my site,
Merry Hulkmas to all, and to all, a good night!


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Short Title: ProWrestling6

From: Black Knight (blackknight-security@worldnet.att.net)
Subject: A christmas poem for you all.... 
Newsgroups: alt.pro-wrestling.wwf
Date: 2002-12-24 14:29:38 PST 

Being a Buddhist we don't really celebrate Christmas, but here is a little
something for you all anyway. I like to call it...

  The Black Knight Before Christmas!

Twas the night before Christmas, and the newsgroup was closed
Not a poster was stirring, even Mottola had gone home.
The HHH bashing was here and was there
In hopes that St. Vincent would read them and care.

The Prince was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of Buff Bagwell danced in his head,
But with Dora in Jersey and me way out West
I had just settled in to watch Diva's Undressed.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the lazy boy to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
hitting the pause button and pulling up my pants.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the trailers below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a wild rich driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Vince
And up in the back sat a Dingo like Elf
Who spoke not a word and kept to himself.

More rapid than Crow his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Steiner! now, D'Lo! now Michaels and Steph!
On, Booker! on Goldust! On Stacy and Test!

To the top of the double wide! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away and watch RAW!"

So down the stairs I ran to answer the door,
In the hopes that he brought a few holiday whores
And in came the whole group with a smash and a tumble,
like they were storming the ring for their time in the Rumble.

And then, from the outside, I heard by my car
The spitting and puking of Hall back from the bar.
As I looked out the window, I saw Nash by a bench,
Trying to look tough and no-sell the stench.

So while the wrestlers got busy, grabbing booze off the shelf
The Dingo Elf wander off, cussing quietly to himself

Now Vince was dressed all in Armani and Fur,
and walked with a swagger that got on my nerves.
A bundle of Merchandise he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

But his eyes - didn't twinkle - and he seemed kinda sad!
So I said "Hey Vince. it can't be THAT bad!
His normally big smile was tight as a bow,
And he hung his head low like he had jobbed to Al Snow.
And with a sigh and nod he told me a tale,
of how the WWE was beginning to fail.

Linda wanted a raise, and Bradshaw stock options
The writers were idiots and storylines were flopping
Steph wanted bigger boobs, and Big Show to be svelte
And of course Triple H wanted all of the belts.

Austin was gone and Rock was away
and it didn't look good for ratings these days,
they were traveling to countries to wrestle anywhere
And trying to get past the whole Panda affair.

And the XFL had left them all in the Red
So he turned to me and sadly said,
"If it wasn't for some side cash and the favors from Trish
I'd quit the whole business and give Jarrett his wish."

So now I was stuck, not sure what to do.
Sure WWE was sucking, but far from being through
Plus I was hoping to score a little rub
And hook up with Stacy out back in the hot tub
So I decided to share my views with St. Vince
I figured they might just help in a pinch

"Get back to the basics," I smiled and said
"And get Triple H out of Stephanie's bed.
Cut some of the dead weight and long promo times
Remember it's about wrestling not Triple H's climb!
And break the glass ceiling; give the kids a spot
There's a guy named Incubus dying for a shot."

And thinking of Rach and the rest of the batch
I asked he put Batista in a hot oil match.

So Vince started to smile and spirits to rise
And I was feeling mighty and wrestling wise
So we partied a bit and then called it a night
and I walked them to the sleigh for the long homeward flight

And that Damn Dingo Elf climbed in with no word
Then he mooned be twice and flipped me the bird
But I heard Vince exclaim, as their flight reached its peak
"Who knew I get advice from some damn newgroup Geek!"


Happy Holiday's to everyone in the group and may the Light of Buddha shine
on you and yours through the New Year.

Peace... Black Knight


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Short Title: ProWrestling7

From: Dont Trust Anybody (DTA)
Subject: Goldberg's Night Before Christmas 
Newsgroups: rec.sport.pro-wrestling
Date: 2003-12-20 13:12:21 PST 

Goldberg's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the week before Christmas, wrestlers flew to Iraq,
So the war-weary soldier could give their TVs a smack;
The stars were all festive as they flew through the air,
Hoping Hayes would pass out so they could cut off his hair

The grapplers all hoped for an upcoming win,
While Michael Cole stroked that bug on his chin;
Over on Raw, Armageddon was through,
All titles were given to Hunter's new crew,

When from backstage there arose such a clatter,
Vince sprang off of Sable to see what was the matter.
Away to the locker room he flew like a flash,
To see a star tossing tables, talking much trash.

McMahon made his way to the disgruntled section
To hear Goldberg complain about his character direction,
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

The driver, still angry over that Katie Vick schtick
Was here to kick ass, a hardcore St. Nick!
More rapid than high spots in an X Title bout,
He screamed, and he hollered, giving Billy a shout;

"Hey, Goldberg! Yo, Goldberg! Please shut up your face!
You've been here since February, taking up space!
You've bitched about Hunter, Diesel and Hall!
You once held the title, now I'll make you fall!"

The wrestlers all scattered, (Hurricane tried to "fly,")
They anticipated a beating, from this Jolly old guy
So up to da Man the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of chairs, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, Bill started to growl
But Santa stepped up and gave him a scowl.
"You're next!" shouted Goldberg, and prepared for a Spear
But Santa just smiled and showed him no fear.

"How dare you confront me!" Bill screamed to St. Nick
Claus cracked all his knuckles and picked up a stick;
He swung with such force, he left a welt on Bill's back,
For each of his tantrums, Santa gave him a whack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
As he bruised up poor Berg, like a Christmas Strawberry!
He just looked so happy to beat Billy down,
Goldberg begged off, while Claus went to town;

He reached back and swung, knocking out Goldy's teeth,
Dropped a big elbow and choked him out with a wreath;
He pounded his face and had nothing to say,
And allowed some free punches from Y2J.

The stars all applauded, seeing Bill get destroyed,
Vince laughed when he saw it, then stole Santa's Toys;
The final shot came, when Santa stepped on Berg's head,
Triple H tried to hump him because he thought Bill was dead;

Claus spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filled all the stockings; and called Goldberg a jerk,
After one final kick to the point of Bill's nose,
He nodded his head and up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, gave the divas a whistle,
A group had gathered to watch him fly like a missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as he waved to the mob,
"Hey Goldberg, shut up and do your damn job."


James Guttman has been writing for the PWTorch.com website since last
September. The 26 year old Long Island native has made it a point to see the
wrestling business from every angle possible. His Raw Insanity can be found
each Monday here on PWTorch.com. His Takes can be found 2-3 times a week by
clicking on the menu to your left. You can also hear his Audio Ish each
Friday on the VIP section. Send him your thoughts at Jguttman@PWTorch.com


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Short Title: ProWrestling8

From: .oO rach Oo. (reachin@anewrefutationoftimeandspace.com)
Subject: An APWW Visit from St Nicholas 
Newsgroups: alt.pro-wrestling.wwf
Date: 2003-12-15 15:50:27 PST 
 
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through usenet
Hex's lace panties were all sticky and wet;
Silk stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that a kiddie fiddler soon would be there;

The drag queens were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of real vaginas danced in their heads;
Goldmoon in her 'pleather, and Sockdust in his cap,
He had just settled and the crapper for a long winter's shat.

When out on the Chinese passion swing there was such a splatter,
Greg sprang from the bed to see what the fuck was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Pulled up Hex's excuse for a dick and saw one nasty rash.

The moon on the sheen of the used condoms that glow
Gave the luster of mid-day to the strap ons below,
When, what to Greg's wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight  slaves with cheap beer.

With a little old driver, so white trash and slick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Dick.
More rapid than a Hex tantrum, his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called to Greggie by name;

"Now, DASHER! now, EXOTIC DANCER! now, PRANCY and VIXEN!
On, CUMET! on CUPID! on, DONDER and BLITZEN!
From the tip of the cock! to the shaft and the ball
Now Swallow it, Swallow it! Swallow it all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount Hex til he's dry,
So up to the bar- the coursers they blew,
With the mouthful of spunk and Pickles too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of  Sockdust,. that big poof.
As he drew in Santa's cock , and was turning around,
Down the chimney Ron Jeremy came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his whiskers were all tarnished with cum and soot;
A bundle of sex toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like Larry Flint just opening his pack.

Hex's  eyes -- how they twinkled! The dimples on his ass.. So hairy
His cheeks were like roses, his SO MISSED his cherry!
Sockdust's little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was all covered with spunk from his last blow

The stump of Hex's dick, he took tight in his teeth,
And the midgets it encircled its head like a wreath;
Greg  has a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of ky jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, oh fuck how I laughed.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know he was just all spent.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the reindeer and midges - circle jerk
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to the horn o plenty to his vibrator and rave whistle,
And away flew his shit stains like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A HELLA GOOD-NIGHT."

--
rach


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Short Title: ProWrestling9

From: -I-ncubus (incubusapww@aol.comtohell)
Subject: The Night Before Naked Christmas 
Newsgroups: alt.pro-wrestling.wwf
Date: 2003-12-22 09:53:13 PST 

Twas the night before Christmas 
I was naked in my house
Pickles had just killed 
This large freaking mouse.

Fan girls were dressed up
With cleavage that bared
Swass and 2000and2
Dressed in drag, still no one cared

sinistersteve was posting, Becker watching stars
Hex was trolling, Goldie a clatter
Presto was jammin, Pertwee was slammin
Mikey was asking does it all really matter.

Nate was sleeping, tucked in his bed
With visions of Penguins dancing in his head
Dingo was chasing the goat out the door
Subbie and rach bought a new bed from the store

Dora just posted, Eat me dry
That put a tear, in my right eye
Adam K was still claiming twas not me
I do not send feedback to the Torch you silly bee.

Santa was checking Statman's last list
Shell was still marking, FunkyM banged his fist
Karen Maire made the cookies that were outta sight
Merry Christmas APWW, GET NAKED TONIGHT !!!!!!!


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Short Title: PunkRock

from http://home.earthlink.net/~latinwolf7/xmas292.html  

From: leathergoddess@hotmail.com
Subject: Merry Fookin Xmas,,,,
Date: Sun, 12 Dec 1999 
Newsgroups: dillys.space,stationery.bitches-from-hell

A Visit From Saint Vicious

'Twas the night before New Year's, when everyone's drunk,
Not a rocker was stirring, not even a punk;
The baggies were hung by the phono with care
In hopes that Saint Vicious, yes Sid, would be there:

The Ramones were sold-out, so we stayed in our sheds,
While visions of slammers still danced in our heads;
Suzie with hash pipe and I, dressed in black,
Had just settled down for a long playing track

When out in the alley there arose such a clatter
I crawled from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I lurched with a crash,
Tearing a poster I'd had from the Clash.

The strobe light, the acid, the new-snorted snow
Gave a luster of Day-Glo to objects below;
When what to my unfocused eyes should appear
But a miniature stage, and a band I could hear,

With a singer who danced; by the pogo he did
I knew in a moment that it must be Saint Sid.
More rapid than Springsteen, their rhythm it came.
And he snarled, and he shouted, and called them by name:

"Now Strummer! Biafra! Now Joey Ramone!
On Bators! On Patti! On Cook and on Jones-
To the top of the amps, kick over the wall!
Now anarchy, anarchy, anarchy all!"

As punks that before a rock concert got high,
When they all started to pogo, mount to the sky,
So up to the window, the rockers, they flew
With powerful speakers, and Saint Vicious, too.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the trunk
The swearing and cursing of each famous punk.
As I drew on my pipe, and was turning around,
Down the vent shaft Saint Vicious, he came with a bound;

He was dressed all in black from his head to his toe,
And a chain ran from his shoulder to regions below.
A black leather jacket was flung on his back,
And he looked like a heretic freed from the rack.

His eyes, how they flashed! His smile, how merry!
He staggered right in, and his breath smelled of sherry;
His darkly blue hair was drawn up in a spike,
And the rest of the punks were attired alike.

A portable mike he held tight in his hand;
"Holiday in the Sun" issued forth from the band,
To be followed by "Anarchy in the U.K.",
"God Save the Queen", "EMI", and "My Way".

The band played so loud, albums fell from my shelf,
And I gasped when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye, and some dope for my head
Soon gave me to know, I should pogo instead.

He spoke but a word, and that was "Ramones",
And gave us all tickets, and hash for the day!
Then putting white powder inside of his nose
And spitting it out, he said: "Fuck all discos!"

He sprang to his stage, to the band gave a shout,
And away they all jammed, 'til Saint Vicious passed out;
But I heard him exclaim, with the last of his might,
"SCORCHING PUNK ROCK TO ALL AND AN AWFUL GOOD NIGHT!

Happy drunken Christmas, or Chanukkah, or Kwaanza, er whatever...
See youse in the new fookin' year!


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Short Title: Racquetball

From: dropshot99 (dropshot99@aol.com)
Subject: Racquetball Christmas 
Newsgroups: alt.sport.racquetball
Date: 2001-12-24 12:26:03 PST 

Twas the Night before Nationals and all thru the Courts
Not a racquet was flashing not even a "short"
And all thru the Y the players would share
The hope that Otto would try to be fair

The Amatuers were all nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of "titles" danced in their heads
And Hiser in his hotel room doing the "draw"
And plugging in "Pro's"...isn't that against the law?

When out on the street there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
gaved the lustre of mid-day to objects below
Then what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a rented Porche...St Onge! How insincere

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name
'Hey' Otto! now, Hiser! now Peter and Ed!
On, Linda! on Leo! They must be brain dead.

To the top of the Porche! To the top of the Hilton!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the "Pent-House" the courser they flew
With a handfuls of luggage and St. Onge too.
And then, in a twinkling , I heard on the roof
"I am the governing body of all racquetball"
I deserve to be "aloof"!

He was dressed in all the finery that racquetball could afford
His clothes had names like Adidas and Nike, my Lord!
His smug little mouth was drawn up like a bow
And other than the gold ones, his teeth were whiter than snow

His eyes--how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a canary!
He had a shallow face and a sagging belly
What can you say about a diet based on jelly.

He was slick and sly, a right jolly old self
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself,
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know that racquetball had something to dread
He mumble under his breath and went right to work

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, from his seat he arose;
He sprang to his feet, to his team he gave a whistle,
And away they flew down the elevator as though it a thistle,

But I heard him to exclaim, ere he ran out of sight,
I work for the IOC!  The rest of you take a bite!

Merry Christmas
Dropshot99


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Short Title: RadioAntique

From: Chris F. (zappyman@hotmail.com)
Subject: The Night Before Christmas - The Radio Collectors Version 
Newsgroups: rec.antiques.radio+phono
Date: 2003-12-24 15:57:09 PST 

On this Christmas Eve, allow me to present my pitiful knock-off of the
Holiday classic.....

The Night Before Christmas - The Radio Collectors Version

T'was the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a radio was playing,
not even a Mickey Mouse.

The tombstones were set
on the mantle with care,
with hopes that a Waltons
would soon join them there.

The Bunis' were tucked
asleep in their beds
as visions of Stratospheres
danced in their heads.

When all of a sudden,
there arose such a racket
like a 1st AF tube
in a loose, dirty socket.

Away to the windows,
I flew like a flash;
tore open the shutters,
and threw up the sash.

When what to my sleep-
deprived eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh,
and eight tiny reindeer.

I put on some slippers
and went down the stairs,
and into the living room,
to see who was there.

Twas a shock for my eyes,
a mess most grandious;
that clumsy oaf Santa had
tripped o'er my radios!

The good English language,
was I about to abuse,
when Santa said "Wait!"
"For I have some good news!"

He reached in his sack,
and there in his glove
was a box of the goodies
us radio guys love.

An Addison catalin,
all polished and glowing;
A Philco model 90
with the tube chart still showing.

An Emerson strad -
a gift not so thrifty!
And even a bundle
of UX-250's!

The damage repaired,
he said his goodbye,
and up the small chimney
he proceeded to fly.

And I heard him exclaim
as he left on his sleigh;
"Merry Christmas to all,
and keep your radios out of my way!"

-Adaptation by Chris F.

"I just wanted to let you know when you get to our house, you'll be greeted
by an air-tight fireplace with a locked screen door and a three-stage blower
manifold.... I'll leave the back door ajar."  -Little girl in Santas lap, as
seen in an old Herman cartoon


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Short Title: RadioHam1

Subject:      A Ham's Night Before Christmas
From:         kn4aq.no.Spam.gary@mms.net (Gary Pearce)
Date:         1997/11/28
Message-ID:   <3481211e.14326463@NEWS1.MMS.NET>
Newsgroups:   triangle.radio

        A Ham's Night Before Christmas

(Yet another corruption of Clement Clarke Moore's
classic Christmas tale, this time distorted by
Gary Pearce KN4AQ, and the Raleigh Amateur
Radio Society, Raleigh, NC, December 2, 1996.)


Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through two-meters,
Not a signal was keying up
Any repeaters.

The antennas reached up
From the tower, quite high,
To catch the weak signals
That bounced from the sky.

The children, Tech-Pluses,
Took their HT's to bed,
And dreamed of the day
They'd be Extras, instead.

Mom put on her headphones,
I plugged in the key,
And we tuned 40 meters
For that rare ZK3.

When the meter was pegged
by a signal with power.
It smoked a small diode,
and, I swear, shook the tower.

Mom yanked off her phones,
And with all she could muster
Logged a spot of the signal
On the DX PacketCluster,

While I ran to the window
And peered up at the sky,
To see what could generate
RF that high.

It was way in the distance,
But the moon made it gleam -
A flying sleigh, with an
Eight element beam,

And a little old driver
who looked slightly mean.
So I though for a moment,
That it might be Wayne Green.

But no, it was Santa
The Santa of Hams.
On a mission, this Christmas
To clean up the bands.

He circled the tower,
Then stopped in his track,
And he slid down the coax
Right into the shack.

While Mom and I hid
Behind stacks of CQ,
This Santa of hamming
Knew just what to do.

He cleared off the shack desk
Of paper and parts,
And filled out all my late QSLs
For a start.

He ran copper braid,
Took a steel rod and pounded
It into the earth, till
The station was grounded.

He tightened loose fittings,
Resoldered connections,
Cranked down modulation,
Installed lightning protection.

He neutralized tubes
In my linear amp...
(Never worked right before --
Now it works like a champ).

A new, low-pass filter
Cleaned up the TV,
He corrected the settings
In my TNC.

He repaired the computer
That would not compute,
And he backed up the hard drive
And got it to boot.

Then, he reached really deep
In the bag that he brought,
And he pulled out a big box,
"A new rig?" I thought!

"A new Kenwood?  An Icom?
A Yaesu, for me?!"
(If he thought I'd been bad
it might be QRP!)

Yes! The Ultimate Station!
How could I deserve this?
Could it be all those hours
that I worked Public Service?

He hooked it all up
And in record time, quickly
Worked 100 countries,
All down on 160.

I should have been happy,
It was my call he sent,
But the cards and the postage
Will cost two month's rent!

He made final adjustments,
And left a card by the key:
"To Gary, from Santa Claus.
Seventy-Three."

Then he grabbed his HT,
Looked me straight in the eye,
Punched a code on the pad,
And was gone - no good bye.

I ran back to the station,
And the pile-up was big,
But a card from St. Nick
Would be worth my new rig.

Oh, too late, for his final
came over the air.
It was copied all over.
It was heard everywhere.

The Ham's Santa exclaimed
What a ham might expect,
"Merry Christmas to all,
And to all, good DX."

©1996 Gary Pearce KN4AQ
Permission granted for any print
or electronic reproduction.
kn4aq.gary@mms.net
kn4aq@arrl.net (old)


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Short Title: RadioHam2

from http://www.hamradio-online.com/1997/jan/twas.html
  
              'Twas an Amateur Christmas
                                  
  By Jack Wright, KC4ZEK, email to jwright@chattanooga.net
                                      
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the night,
We Amateurs sent messages, with the speed of light.

The stockings were hung by the ham rigs with care,
In hopes a new dual-bander, soon would be there.

And Ma with her HT, and I with my set,
Had just settled down for a long Winter's net.

Here and there are the books that we need,
Books that were crazy if we dont read.

Books equal to motherhood, and apple pie,
Like Uncle Wayne, they Never Say Die!

When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the window to see what was the matter.

When what to my wondering eyes should see,
But a plain gray van, with a license plate: "F C C".

With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew as my heart sank, it was not St. Nick.

He knocked at the door, no chimney to help,
Said "Im from the government,  Ill have those cookies & milk."

Now I thought to myself, "What a sticky wicket",
With laser sharp eyes he was examining my ticket.

He tested the radios, one by one,
I held my breath, and tried not to run.

Now Yaesu, now Kenwood, now Ten-Tec and Icom,
On Comet, on Cushcraft, on Azden and Den-Tron,

To the top of the tower, to the end of the beam,
Now dash away, dash away, signals SO CLEAN!!

After testing my setup, and laughing so gay,
Not "HUMBUG" said he, but "Your rigs are OK".

Then he was away like a flash, no question or fee,
By then, he was just like Santa Claus to me.

And..I heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight,
"73's TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!"


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Short Title: RadioHam3

From: David Subject: APC NEWS - 18th. December, 2002 No. 179 
Newsgroups: aus.radio.amateur.misc
Date: 2002-12-18 01:33:44 PST 



So that was 2002, from the APC News crew. With our last session for
the year let's go out with the same Xmas poem we did last year, which
goes like this  ......


'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shack
The rigs were turned off, and the mike cords lay slack.
The antenna rotor had made its last turn,
and the tubes in the linear had long ceased to burn.

I sat there relaxing and took off my specs,
Preparing to daydream of armchair DX,
When suddenly outside I heard such a sound,
and dashed to the door to see what was around.

The moon shone down brightly and lighted the night-
For sure, propagation for the low bands was right.
I peered up to the roof where I'd heard all the racket,
And there was some guy in a Red, fur-trimmed jacket.

He looked very much like an ACA guy,
Who'd come to check up, on some bad TVI.
So I shouted up to him, "OM, QRZ" ?
"Hey, you by the chimney, all dressed up in Red."

Then I suddenly knew when I heard sleighbells jingle.
The guy on the rooftop was jolly Kris Kringle.
He had a big sack full of amateur gear,
Which made quite a load for the prancing reindeers.

Transmitters, Receivers, cabinets and racks,
Some meters, and scopes,  and a lot of co-ax.
He said not a word, 'cause he'd finished his work
He picked up his sack, then he turned with a jerk.

As he leaped to his sleigh, he shouted with glee,
And I knew in a moment he'd be QRT.
But I heard him transmit as he flew o'er the trees
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all, 73's."

---
This has been APC News - brought to you by Melbourne's Moorabbin and
District Radio Club.  We invite your call-backs presently and look
forward to your company again next week. 
We remind you too that our news bulletins go to air at 8pm each
Wednesday night.  APC News can be heard on this primary frequency
146.550, on 160m. AM at 1.843MHz - 80m. on 3.565MHz.,  40m. on 7.065
MHz, 6m on 53.575  MHz and on 70cm. via the VK3RHF repeater which also
comes out on 29.640, 53.625 and 1273.4 MHz.

APC News audio can also be heard on UHF TV Channel 16 and on channel
20 LSB on 27MHz. CB.     You can also download the audio in MP3
format, just follow the link from the MDRC web page at
http://www.mdrc.org.au.


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Short Title: RadioHam4

From: Jim (jimshire nospammy@iprimus.com.au)
Subject: A Xmas tale 
Newsgroups: aus.radio.amateur.misc
Date: 2003-12-16 18:48:53 PST 

Twas the night before Xmas
And all through the house
Everything was stirring
Even the mouse

Tranceivers were tuning
and aerials were up
the scotch was disguised
in a large plastic cup

Fingers on buttons
were starting to itch
this waiting on New Year
was becoming a bitch

But soon it came nearer
the party was nigh
dipoles and loops
were all hoisted high

Grins on all faces
this HF was great
No Morse to learn now
It had gone to its fate

The clocks being watched
ticked over so slow
one minute to midnight 
one minute to go

And then right on time 
came a signal so clear
they thought the transmitter
was terribly near

But they'd never forget
Oh that terrible sound
they were cursing and screaming
and running around

For out of the speaker
So crisp and so clear
Came the sound they abhorred
And had learned how to fear

And it said....

dahdah/dahdah/dit/ditdahdit/ditdahdit/dahdedahdah/
dahdididah/dahdah/didah/ditditdit


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Short Title: RailroadAtlanticCoastLine

From: John S. (j.simakauskas@comcast.net)
Subject: Merry Christmas to All from Atlantic Coast Line 
Newsgroups: misc.transport.rail.americas, alt.railroad
Date: 2003-12-12 17:34:34 PST 
 
From: http://www.vistadome.com/rrxmas.jpg

'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the train,
Not a person was fretful
Despite snow and rain.

The Pullman patrons
Were snug in their beds,
While visions of funshine
Danced through their heads.

People in Coaches
Asleep through the night.
Their headrests and pillows
So restful and white.

The dinner had been
of their very own choosing,
So tempting and good
There was just no refusing.

The evening they'd spent
In tune with the Season.
(New luxuries of train travel
Made another fine reason.)

In the Tavern-Lounge car,
So spacious and bright,
All had gathered to sing
Christmas carols that night.

"'Tis a most happy Christmas,"
They’d sung with delight,
"Travel at its best --
What a wonderful night."

And when it came time
That Christmas was there,
All had laughed as they sang
For they had not a care.

As to Florida they sped
On through the storm,
They were well on their way,
Relaxed, safe, and warm.

Thankful for their train
So streamlined and fine
No wonder most folks travel
Atlantic Coast Line!

"This is," they had said,
"The one way to go --
The Double Track Route
For comfort, we know."

Then answering each call,
As they'd turn out a light,
"Merry Christmas to all...
For all a GOOD night."


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Last Modified January 7, 2007