Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Variations
Version 2007.1
Part 7 of 50
January 7, 2007
Compiled by: Matthew Monroe
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: BelliniDay
Subject: Twas the night of Bellini Day
Date: 09/12/2000
Author: LuminumSiren
Newsgroup: alt.tv.kids-in-hall
Twas the night of Bellini Day
when all through the...one bedroom-apartment
Not a creature was stirring
not even a mouse. ('cause that bastard Tucker murdered it!)
The towels were hung
by the shower with care
In hopes that one of them,
Bellini would wear.
The disco-caroling children were all
snug in their beds
While visions of trout gravy
danced in their heads.
One child wanted gifts
screwbulators and more
But he straigtened up
hearing this tale of yore:
There lived an great fellow
before the big traffic jam
When God was not yet
a ridiculous sham.
His likes were eating fish,
and elevator music.
He walked, smiled and he looked
a bit like that labamba spic.
On his way to the store
buttermilk, what he saught
He paused, to gaze
at the empty parking lot.
His eyes, how they twinkled
his dimples, how merry
His cheeks were like roses (which no one should ever spread for) his nose like a cherry
His drol little mouth
was drawn up like a star
And the beard of his chin
was as black as the tar
He had a broad face
and a round little belly
That you could poke with a stick.
um...jelly.
Then what should fall on him
but a large rock from the sky
Still standing up
our hero would die
A buttermilk tree sprouted
and the spot was marked
But it was soon cut down
'cause cars had to be parked
And what do we learn
from this story we share
To find beauty in the banal
for it is everywhere.
Now, Bellini never spoke
but i will say, to wit:
Happy Bellini Day to all
and to all a good nigit.
luminumsiren
"sitting on a rock, luring seamen to their watery graves"
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Bestiality
Subject: POEM: A Visit From St. Nicholas (slightly altered)
From: Canine Casanova
Date: 1997/12/24
Message-ID: <67rvuu$bi4$1@sparky.wolfe.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
Holiday greetings once again!
I've just finished this, and wanted to share it while it was still
appropriate :) It can also be found on the Ultimate Zoo Page, which can
be found at http://psg.com/~jimd/uzp/ This file is
http://psg.com/~jimd/uzp/zmas.txt.html
A Visit From St. Nicholas
(a zoo-friendly version)
by Canine Casanova
'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the farm,
Every zoo was safeguarded
From persecution and harm.
The feed bags were hung for each stallion and mare,
In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The animals nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of loving zoos danced through their heads.
With my arms 'round my lover (A Shepherd named Snaps),
We'd just settled down for a long winter's nap.
When out in the meadow there arose such a howling,
Snaps jumped up to protect me, barking and growling.
Away to the window I dashed like a bunny,
Thinking that noise sounded awfully funny...
The moon on the meadows, pale blue on the green,
Made all outdoors quite a pastoral scene.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a sled pulled by Huskies instead of reindeer!
With a zeta-clad driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick!
More swiftly than falcons his Huskies they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
"On Mishka! On Boris! On Fyodor and Tasha!
On Ivan and Alex! On Pyotr and Sasha!
To the top of the kennel, to the top of the barn,
Fear nothing here, you're all safe from harm."
As wild eagles they flew in the midwinter sky,
With their magnificent coats and sparkling eyes.
To the top of the barn, the Huskies they flew,
With the sleigh full of gifst, and St. Nicholas too.
And then above me I heard on the roof
The joyful cacophony of eight Husky woofs.
As I pulled in my head and was turning around,
Down the hay chute St. Nicholas came with a bound!
He was dressed all in wool from his head to his toes
(Real fur's in awfully poor taste, don't you know!)
He opened his bag for all us good girls and boys,
Salt licks and catnip and leather chew toys.
His eyes all atwinkle, Zeta proudly displayed,
He got up from the floor and brushed off some hay.
He pulled out a fiddle, likewise a bow,
And played for us all a jig, don't you know!
The animals danced, and we all did too,
Each animal proud to dance with their zoo.
His broad face shone with magical glee
"I've saved this place for the last," said he.
"The spirit of Christmas is strong in this place,"
(And I thought I even saw a tear on his face)
"Your love so breathtaking," St. Nicholas said,
"You know it's no matter who you take to your bed."
He set down his fiddle, then passed gifts all around,
Everyone got them, every pup, every hound.
Then placing in his teeth a lovely red rose,
He gave a quick nod, and up the hay chute he rose!
He leaped to his sleigh, gave the dogs a command,
We stood there and watched them, paw in paw, hand in hand.
But we heard him exclaim, 'ere they drove out of sight,
"Zoo happiness for all, and to all a good night!"
Best wishes for a happy holiday season and a terrific 1998.
Arf.
==*==*==*==*==*
_____^___ Canine Casanova -- canine@anon.nymserver.com
| | \
\ / ^ | visit The Ultimate Zoo Page! -- http://psg.com/~jimd/uzp/
/ \_/ 0 \
/ \ "What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were
/ ____ 0 gone, man would die from a great loneliness. For whatever
/ / \___ _/ happens to the beasts soon happens to man." --Chief Seattle
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: BicycleRacing
Newsgroups: rec.bicycles.racing
From: "JIm Flom"
Date: Sat, 25 Dec 2004 16:24:16 GMT
Subject: Twas the night before Christmas, all through r.b.r
'Twas the night before Christmas, all through r.b.r
not a creature was stirring (leastwise a car).
The Cool-Max were hung by the bike racks with care,
in hopes that St. Albright soon would be there.
The Freds were all nestled, snug in their beds,
while visions of Krispy Kremes danced in their heads.
And Chang in his 'kerchief, and Laff in his cap,
had settled their brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the velodrome there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my trainer to see what was the matter.
Away to the Keirin I flew like a flash,
tore open a six-pack, and threw down some cash.
A Tattoo on the breast of the truly fresh Heather
fed the lusts of a certain Chang who likes leather ,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature roadie and eight trolls in high gear.
With a little old driver, so pseudonymed phony,
I knew in a moment it must be Gringioni.
More rapid than Kunich, his courses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Ewoud! Now Amit!
Now, Connelly and Pedalchick!
On, Papai! On, ProCrit!
On, JT and Kveck!
To the top of the podium!
To the top of the ten!
Now sprint away! Sprint away!
Sprint away then!"
As O' Grady before a strong headwind will fly,
when they meet with a semi, and mount to the sky
so up to the podium the D-1s they flew,
with the sleigh full of Extran, and St. Sheldon Brown too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the wire
the whir and the whistle of each little tire.
As I looked right behind me and was turning around,
up my draft Johnny NoCom came with a bound.
He was dressed all in drag, from helmet to shoes,
and his kit was all tarnished with smoke and with booze.
A bundle of needles he'd flung on his back,
and he looked like a dealer just opening his pack.
His eyes--how they reddened! His dimples, how merry!
His butt cheeks like roses, his virginity like a cherry!
His trolling old hands were drawn up like a bow,
and the coke on his chin made it white as the snow.
The stump of a hash pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a white face and a fatty master belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was fat as a cow, a right jolly old elf,
and I hurled when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A poke in his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know Johnny NoCom was dead!
He spoke not a word, but was soon laid to rest,
and filling a coffin, would face his next test.
And getting through winter, a troll or two chasing
we got back to politics, religion (oh yeah - racing).
We sprang to our rides, our teams made us cheer,
We drank like Lance Armstrong (I heard he likes beer)
But I heard Flom exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Bicycling1
from http://cycling.org/lists/bcp/bcp-archive-hyper/bcp.9512/0015.html
referenced by Fx4247@aol.com
Sat, 2 Dec 1995 07:38:37 -0500
'Twas the night before Century
'Twas the night before Century
and all through the house,
every bike was standing
well oiled, and tight,
the tires hard,
the frame polished and bright.
Outside on the auto
the rack was installed,
in hopes that the weatherman
would cooperate and care,
and the day would be clear
and the weather fair.
Suddenly, the phone rang
and I sprung to my feet!
the voice said we're ready
to begin our feat!
I awoke from my sleep,
and searched through the house
for the things that I needed
a helmet, gloves and a warning
to be careful well headed.
I was on the road,
halfway through my endeavor,
when I saw them coming
Armstrong, Indiuran, Lemonds
and whomever.
Onward they yelled to me
in a condescending manner
as they passed in a flash!
As they rounded the curve,
I heard the noise as they
cursed at the crash!
Good I said, they got what
they deserve!
I passed them with compassion
and continued on my mission
to finish what I started
without anyone else's
permission.
When it was over, and I
had completed my chore,
I realized it was something
I had never done before.
I headed home tired and sore,
was greeted by loved ones,
who cheered and adored.
Gene Martin--add a verse and send back!
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Bicycling2
Newsgroups: alt.rec.bicycles.recumbent
From: "R42Pilot"
Date: Fri, 24 Dec 2004 15:57:17 GMT
Subject: Twas The Night Before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, 'cept me and my mouse.
I was on the computer, catching up on the BROL
and checking out e-bay for bents, after all.
I was all set to bid on a new Action Bent
When I heard a loud noise, to the window I went.
I wiped off the fog and then grabbed for a seat.
The vision I saw made my heart skip a beat.
I came to my senses and felt kind of queasy.
Out yonder was Santa on an ancient Tour-Easy.
He grabbed the red sack with the gifts that he had
tucked away in his trailer; a Burley Nomad.
Ol' Santa was sporting a tight body suit
Of red and white Spandex and a helmet to boot.
He had monstrous calves and thunderous thighs
He was lean as a racer; I rubbed at my eyes.
He went down the chimney and came back in a flash.
He reloaded the Burley with his Christmas gift stash.
He pedaled away with a click and a whir
And was off in the air without much of a stir.
He circled about as I hid near my door.
I knew he'd come this way with my Christmas score.
He shifted it down and then landed with grace.
He parked that old 'Easy three feet from my face.
I could not believe this was Santa's own steed.
The paint was all chipped, only 21 speeds.
There was some kind of box wired up to the frame
I suppose it was magic, but it looked kinda lame.
I gave way to temptation and sat down on the bike.
The seat was a Cobra; I'd not seen the like.
I couldn't help notice that he rode SPD.
I had on my sandals, which was lucky for me.
Without even thinking, I gave her a spin.
I bounce off the curb, to the street with a grin.
I shifted the gears into second then third.
As I sped down the street I felt light as a bird.
I felt rather guilty as I pedaled away.
I'm sure that old Santa had something to say.
With a flick of the wrist and not much of a care
I went to the big ring and into the air.
I sped though the clouds and passed me a jet
Somewhere east of Brooklyn, it was maybe Tibet.
My conscience got to me and by the seat of my pants,
I turned back at Paris, the one that's in France.
The next thing I knew I was circled by elves.
They were riding on 'bents they had built by themselves.
We rode in formation toward my hometown.
They chewed me out good as we went to the ground.
And there stood old Santa, his hands on his hips
He was stewing and fuming; he bit on his lip.
I lowered my head as I neared the old elf.
He was madder than hell; I was ashamed of myself.
He shook his old finger as he spoke out at me
Said I was bad as I'd been since seventy-three.
Them mean little elves took my stunt way too hard.
I found out some later they'd crapped in my yard.
And then I remembered, it was Christmas Eve.
There ought to be presents underneath of my tree.
I ran to the tree and lo and behold,
There was nothing at all, but a big lump of coal.
My eyes filled with tears and my heart with despair
Then I thought of my ride through the Christmas Eve air.
The thrill of the ride was as good as can be
A big chunk of coal won't make a whiner of me.
Since I couldn't do better or worse than I'd done
I decided to make the better of this one.
I wanted to give Santa the last final word.
I yelled "Merry Damned Christmas" and flipped him the bird.
Merry Christmas to all!!
Mark
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Billiards1
From: JAM (jamalloy@aol.comnojunk)
Subject: Re: Merry Christmas
Newsgroups: rec.sport.billiard
Date: 2003-12-24 09:49:43 PST
Twas the night before Christmas, the NGs were quiet.
Nobody was posting, not even Jim Wyant.
I started a thread to see what was the matter,
when outside my window, there arose such a clatter.
Up to the window, I sprang like an elf.
Earthquake was nestled in bed by himself.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
Twas the Gang of 10, each holding a beer.
There was the driver, so lively and quick,
but as I looked closely, that wasn't St. Nick!
Not a creature was stirring, it was dead as a morgue.
When I focused my eyes, I saw SmorgassBored.
He sprang from his sled and shouted with glee,
"Quit shaking this sled 'cause I gotta go pee."
When up on the roof I heard something pound,
Keith woke up, said "JAM, keep it down."
I raced to the chimney after hearing more clatter,
It was only some guy relieving his bladder.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
The first elf I saw was none other than Fred.
Smorg whistled and shouted and summoned the boys,
"Oy-vey, let's all make some noise.
Hey Patrick and Vader and Jewett and Billy,
hey Jimbo and Louie and Hankster and Willee."
Then what to my wandering mind should appear,
The Gang of 10 spoke, "Merry Christmas, my dear."
Then as if by magic, they rose in a flash,
Saying, "That's all for tonight. We don't want to crash."
The next thing I knew, Keith woke me in bed,
"You're dreaming about that damn Internet?," he said.
One look at my watch, I knew he was right.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Billiards2
From: sam (sam@lasercom.net)
Subject: MY CHRISTMAS NIGHTMARE!!!
Newsgroups: rec.sport.billiard
Date: 2003-12-24 20:50:13 PST
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the hall,
Not a player was gambling, not even 9-ball.
The cues were all hung in their rack by the chair,
In hopes that a player soon would be there.
The balls were all nestled all snug in their rack,
While waiting for players to break up the pack.
With me in my Levi's and wearing a cap,
Had just scratched the cueball and knew I was "crap".
When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my table to look in to the matter.
Away to the doorway I flew like a flash,
Grabbing my cue and all my loose cash.
The streetlights on walkways gave light to the show,
Even the Hookers who stood just below.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a chubby Doug Wiley with eight empty beers. (Buuurp)
A little too sober, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be a trick.
More rapid than eagles his backers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Becky, Now Louie, Now Hughie and Willee,
Come Ronald and Deno and Patrick and Billy.
To the top of the table to the cues on the wall,
Its cash today, cash today, cash from them all.
As dry heaves that before the real Barf does fly,
Doug wriggled in pain spitting up Apple Pie.
So up to the bleachers his backers they flew,
With pockets of cash and a few railbirds too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof,
The thumping and bumping of what seemed like a goof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney came Jimbo so chubby and round.
He was all dressed in leather from his head to his foot,
And his case was all covered with ashes and soot.
A bundle of cues he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a hustler while breaking the rack.
His cue how it sparkled like dust from the Fairy,
His points were all pointed, the wood looked like cherry.
His inlays were pearl all lined in a row,
And the joint and the ferrule were white as the snow.
The money he brought he held tight in his teeth,
And he cussed like a trooper when he scratched on the three.
He had a broad face and a large round belly,
That shook when he shot like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump in spite of his wealth,
And I laughed when I saw him, of course to myself.
With the blink of his eye and the turn of his head,
I knew I had trouble and might end up dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the pockets, then turned with a jerk.
And taking my money, he thumbed up his nose,
And giving the finger, up the chimney he rose.
He jumped on his Harley and off he did ride,
And away went my money and some of my pride.
But I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight,
"Learn to fuckin' read will ya....Oh, and to all a Goodnight"
Hey, if JAM can do it. LOL :o) Sincerely, Sam
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Birds1
Author: CherOhkee
Email: cherohkee@aol.com
Date: 1998/12/08
Forums: rec.pets.birds
Twas the Night Before Christmas Parrot Style
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the tree,
the birdies and parrots were all filled with glee,
The clutches were snuggled in their down feathered nests,
while vision of flight, sent them all soaring west.
Fresh millet sprays had been hung with great care,
with hopes that "Old Scarlet" soon would be there.
The conures and Amazons had all settled down,
but those crazy cockatoos were still hopping around.
When high in the tree tops, a ruckus arose,
I thought I should check, just to see what goes.
Peeking through branches, leaves light by the moon,
I thought I was dreaming it looked just like noon!
When what to my wondering eyes should there be,
but a flock of eight Goffin's landing in the next tree.
Gliding behind, holding reins in his beak,
I spied the red bird, with a blush on his cheek.
He whistled and squawked, calling each one by name,
buoyed by a breeze, as closer they came.
Now Sidney, now Pepper, now Buddy and Kiwi,
on JoJo, on Rascal, on Gabby and Jazzie.
To the top of the palms, to the top of trees tall,
now fly away, fly away, fly away all!
I watched as they circled the green jungle maze,
and thought for a second lost sight, I was in such a daze!
But, soon they appeared, drawing a basket behind,
which was filled with new toys of the bright, shinny kind.
Back to my branch I climbed mighty quick,
I'd heard of Old Scarlet, surley this was no trick!
He carefully perched by an old snoring grey,
while I fretted and wondered if he'd get scared away.
He wasn't even distracted when the parakeet sneezed.
He hung the new whirly gigs, sighed and looked pleased.
Standing proud and quite stately, he filled me with trust;
but I felt ashamed, his feathers were covered with cockatoo dust.
He paused, just a moment, fluffed and preened in a stoop,
turned around slowly, saying "At least it's not poop."
Then he laughed out loud--like a real human being.
I blinked my eyes twice, at what I was seeing.
He picked up a peanut and tossed it my way.
"Here's a small Christmas treat. Dont get spoiled, okay?"
He strutted back to the basket, put a strap round each wing,
chirped at his flock, who started to sing.
Their tones were so perfect, they were magically dear.
I was sure it was Memorex or a choir quite near
The melody lingered, for a moment or two,
but I caught one last glimpse, before they flew.
His eyes were so merry, twinkling with impish delight.
His charming ways had brightened this long Christmas night.
As uppward they soared, toward the golden round moon,
I heard every word, he joyfully crooned.
"Merry Christmas to all, peace, joy and cheer.
Be good little birdies. I'll see you next year!"
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Birds2
From: Toucanldy (toucanldy@aol.com)
Subject: Something to lighten things up
Newsgroups: rec.pets.birds
Date: 2003-12-10 17:06:12 PST
A BIRD BREEDER'S CHRISTMAS
By Gayle Soucek
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the flights,
Not a bird was stirring since I turned off the lights.
Clean dishes were stacked by the freezer with care,
So in the morning they would be filled with fresh healthy fare.
The babies were handfed, the pet birds out to play
Everyone was settled- I was done for the day.
When down from the basement there arose such a clatter
That I ran for the stairs to see what was the matter.
I raced down the steps and turned on the light
Glancing first to my left and then to my right.
It was then that I noticed the now empty spot
In the cage where the Cockatoos should be but were not!
"The Goffins are missing" I yelled to my spouse
While I shuddered to think what they'd do to the house
My fears were well founded, I soon came to know
As I surveyed the destruction in the bird room below.
Feeding doors had been opened, the dishes all tossed
Bags were ripped open their contents all lost.
The marauders unfastened from the cage tops each toy
Which they tossed at the occupants below with such joy.
The other birds sulked as they viewed the whole mess.
This Cockatoo Duo had created such stress!
I searched through the room, my frustration profound
Those two fiendish beasts simply weren't to be found!
It was then that I noticed the Senegal staring
As his eyes flashed with anger I saw he was glaring
Towards the side of the room at an overturned pail
I followed his gaze and saw a flash of white tail
Holding my breath I approached with great care
Was it possible both could be hiding in there?
I snatched up the bucket and the villains were exposed
They knew they were busted and for a second they froze.
Then with a Cockatoo shriek and scrambling of feet
They raced for their cage in hasty retreat
I slammed the door shut as I trembled with rage
"Don't you two ever, ever come out of your cage!"
They stared at me smugly cheeks puffed with contentment
Their mission accomplished they ignored my resentment
"I'll clean up tomorrow," I said aloud with a sigh
As I walked toward the steps one 'Too said "bye-bye."
As I turned with a grin I felt suddenly calm
Their sweet little voices could act as a balm
For along with their mischief, they brought love and fun
It was hard to stay angry despite what they'd done.
My jangled nerves and life's hectic pace
Had made me forget what was in my face
I didn't need gifts, fancy stuff from the store
I had all I needed, my birds and much more!
My dear friends and family, my health and my spouse
Everything that mattered was right here in this house
So Santa I thank you but I don't need a lot
I'm learning to be grateful for all that I've got.
If you come down my chimney to bring something new
Just leave me some padlocks so I can lock up the 'Toos!!
Regards
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: BlessedChristmas
Originally published in:
The Durham Herald-Sun
Sunday, December 24, 2000
Section E, page 2
'Twas the Night Before ...
by Ruth Singleton of Durham
Twas the night before Christmas, and all are at rest:
I think of how we are all wonderful blest.
I look to the stars that shine so bright:
And think of the Heavenly Father that made this just right.
The family is scattered here and there:
I know that God is keeping them in his care.
I go down on my knees to give thanks in prayer:
That all of us should be aware.
Whatever may come or whatever may go:
Be it rain sleet or snow.
We are still here to say, "HO HO HO," and a
Blessed "MERRY CHRISTMAS" to all:
Where ever we go.
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: BlueOysterCult
Author: John A. Swartz
Email: jswartz@mitre.org
Date: 1998/12/23
Forums: alt.music.blueoystercult
O.K., I'm not the first guy to hack up the words to "'Twas the Night
Before Christmas", and my poetry may be a little suspect, but what the
hell... Happy Holidays to you all!!
John
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Blue Oyster Cult soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of guitars danced in their heads;
And Suzy in leather, and I with some beer,
Had just settled down for some late-evening cheer,
When out on the lawn there arose such a noise,
I sprang from the bed to see if it was the Oyster Boys.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Taking care not to hit Suzy - my arm's in a cast.
The Harvest moon shining on the snow in the night
evoked memories of mirror-balls lit by laser light.
When, what to my wondering eyes should I spy,
But a space ship that looked like a wheel in the sky.
It flew to my house, skimming over the trees;
I got to my feet, then fell to my knees.
A door opened wide and a voice did exhult,
"Here they come - from New York City - the amazing BLUE OYSTER CULT!!"
And then, in a twinkling, they opened my door
and Danny Miranda stood on the floor.
He carried a sack the size of a gorilla.
Then he pulled out his bass, and played the riff to "Godzilla".
Then through the door came Bobby Rondinelli.
He shook, when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
With cigarette dangling from his lower lip,
Allen Lanier next arrived from the ship.
Their sound shook the house from the earth to the skies,
I thought it would melt both my ears and my eyes.
But as we all delighted in the sound, we all knew
that soon we'd be greeted by the other two...
Not removing his shades as he entered the room,
in came the figure of one Eric Bloom.
And pulling a knife from out of the sack,
looked at Suzy saying "I'd like to see you in black".
A lift of his shades and a wink from one peeper,
Soon gave me to know I should not fear the Reaper;
He spoke not a word, but gave me no alarm,
carving "Good Health to You" upon the cast on my arm.
Buck Dharma arrived next on the scene without fail.
With guitar in hand, he proceeded to wail.
With the band now complete, and with all in position,
the sound dominated us, and we fell to submission.
The music engulfed us, as we knew it would.
We were damaged, and we liked it, and we all understood.
They left much too soon, but after this rocking
they left "Heaven Forbid" and "Flat Out" in our stockings.
They left in their ship, and as it flew overhead
three men in black appeared - "Don't Report This", they said.
But I heard them exclaim, as they flew out of view,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND THE JOKE'S . . . ON YOU!!!"
--
John A. Swartz - The MITRE Corporation, Bedford MA - jswartz@mitre.org
"Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to Anger.
Anger leads to Hate. Hate leads to SUFFERING."
-- Yoda (Star Wars: Episode 1 - The Phantom Menace)
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Bobster
From: Chris Sobieniak (chrismichael@webtv.net)
Subject: OT: A Xmas poem by my mom!
Newsgroups: rec.arts.animation, rec.arts.anime.misc, alt.tv.cartoon-network, alt.animation.warner-bros, alt.fan.dragonball
Date: 2002-12-22 23:45:04 PST
Given Christmas is in another couple days, I thought I'd touch off some
of the dust of my mom's old scrapbook and reveal to the world a cute
poem she wrote sometime in the late '50s. Kinda enjoy the nostalgic
headtrip this one brings...
BOBSTER'S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
by Joanne Mary Kurtzman
'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the pad,
Not a teener was boppin'
Not even the cats.
The shopping bags hung by the
Smoke wall with care,
In hopes that old money bags
Soon would be there!
The cats were all snoozing
All snug in their beds,
While visions of hi-fi's
Poluted their heads!
I in my ivy leagues and Ma in her tights
Had just shagged out for a cool winter night!
When out from the patio there arose such a contardy
That it sounded like one of those hot teenage parties!
I fell out of bed
And I called for the servant
To press the red button
That drew open the curtain!
The moon on the breast of
The new fallen jazz,
Gave a luster of mid-day
To objects such as:
The space ship, the terrace,
Our outdoor movie -
The wet of the swimming pool!
It all looked real groovy!
And to my surprise in the midst of it all
Stood a jolly young man not quite six feet tall.
He had a guitar and he sang through his beard:
"Now Dasher, now Prancer, come dance over here!"
His mission completed, and he sang as he left -
(Forgive me for saying, but it made me quite deaf!)
With his last note he added as he shagged out of sight:
"Merry Christmas to all! - I'm on TV tonight!"
Domo Arigatoo Gozaimasu!
From the Master of Car-too-nal Knowledge...
Christopher M. Sobieniak
--"Fightin' the Frizzies since 1978"--
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: BookloversDream
Newsgroups: alt.2eggs.sausage.beans.tomatoes.2toast.largetea.cheerslove
From: Spuddie
Date: Fri, 24 Dec 2004 19:39:51 -0600
A Booklover's Christmas Dream
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the pad
You could hear Santa moaning, his back hurt real bad
He was reading her list and when checking it twice,
Uttered "More freaking books! That's really not nice!"
He'd slurped down the cocoa and eaten the pie
Heaved his bulk from the chair and said with a sigh,
"And she doesn't want paperbacks, oh no not her!
Thousand-page epic novels in hardback, the cur!"
Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
Santa poked his head out and said, "Hey, what's the matter?"
A disgusted, mad elf with his hat all askew
Said, "We're going on strike! This we just cannot do!"
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Allowed Santa to see what upset his friends so.
A cardboard case full of books had tipped on its' side
On the foot of an elf with his eyes bulging wide.
Moving quickly to help out in spite of his size
Santa lifted the box after only two tries.
"This one's been a saint throughout the whole year!
Help deliver these books, and I'll buy you a beer!"
"Here's Rankin! Here's Dunnett!
Here's Peter Tremayne!
Terry Brooks and J. Fforde
And Anne Rice…what a pain!
To the top of the pile, sitting there in the hall
Just be careful; don't make Mount TBR fall!"
As old books that succumb to the mildew do cry
The elves grunted and groaned to help the big guy.
They tried to be cheerful but the books weighed a ton
"It better be doggone good beer!" shouted one.
And then in a twinkling, they heard an odd sound
The elves set down the carton, turned slowly around
With hair sticking up and a frown on her face
The elves saw the bookworm and a big can of mace.
She was dressed in a t-shirt at least ten years old
And the look on her face was nothing but cold.
"Stop stealing my books because that's not allowed!"
Her voice wavered a bit, as though she might be plowed.
Her eyes, they were bloodshot, her walk was unsteady
She looked mean with that big can of mace at the ready.
From off to the side, dear old Santa walked up
And said, "Put down that mace, you silly young pup!
We're not *stealing* your books, we're bringing you more.
It would help us a lot if you'd please hold the door.
These books on your list are quite heavy, you see.
Hello, my name's Claus and these are my elves three."
The mace she then lowered and a smile lit her face
She bowed slightly to Santa, said, "Welcome, Your Grace!
I confess I had feared you'd not gotten my list
So I had a few whiskeys and now I'm quite pissed!
But I've something that might make you lot more jolly."
In returning, she pushed a big wheeled mover's dolly.
Santa smiled and said, "Boys, let's finish this haul!"
And they piled up the books til they filled one whole wall.
As they sprang to his sleigh (which by then was much lighter)
A big belly laugh escaped from the old blighter.
"Happy Yule, Merry Christmas, and much happy reading!
Don't forget to share books with those who are needing!"
Christmas Eve 2004
Cheryl A. Reynolds
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: Boomers
Subject: A Boomers Christmas
From: id710@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Sue Neese)
Date: 1997/12/22
Message-ID: <67mett$7eq$1@alexander.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Newsgroups: alt.society.boomers
('specially for you cfn boomers who keep meeting up with system
crashes...{-:)
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MW ! ! ! ! ! ! WM
MW -~*~- -~*~- -~*~- -~*~- -~*~- -~*~- WM
MW /!\ /!\ /!\ /!\ /!\ /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ /%;@\ /%;@\ /%;@\ /%;@\ /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o o/@,%\o o/@,%\o o/@,%\o o/@,%\o o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o WM
MW '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` WM
MW ! WMWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWMW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM Twas the night before Christmas MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM and on CFN MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM Not a person was posting; MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM they'd been throttled again MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM The posties were hung MW /@'%',\o WM
MW '^^^=^^^` WM somewhere in cyberspace MW '^^^=^^^` WM
MW ! WM And we hoped that they'd show up MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM (but would that be the case?) MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM The peeps o'er in Cleveland MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM were already in bed MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM Because their time zone MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM was three hours ahead MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM While I at my 'puter MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM keyboarded in vain MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM Throttle Monsters would likely MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM be this freenet's bane MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM When up on the screen MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM I was paged by a chatter MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM And ASCII appeared 'fore my face MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM with a splatter MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM I blinked twice then jumped MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM from my chair with a start MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM Whoever was paging MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM sure must've been smart MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM The background on the screen MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM was as white as the snow MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM And the characters there MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM were beginning to glow MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM When what to my wondering eyes MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM should appear MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM But a li'l ASCII sleigh MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM and eight ASCII reindeer MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM The man who was driving MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM looked at me with a wave MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM And I noticed right off MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM that he needed a shave MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM At 19.2 baud his coursers MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM they came MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM And he *whistled* and *shouted* MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM as he typed out each name MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM "Now, Weezie! Now Gareth! MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM Now Michelle and Chris! MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM On Gary! On Larry! MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM Oops! Now *who'd* I miss?" MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM As if I were connected MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM thru cable instead MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM The speed which they flew MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM made me grab for my med MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM To the top of the screen, MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM these coursers they flew MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM Pulling 'long ASCII toys, MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM and of course, Santa, too MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM And then in a twinkle, MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM I saw with a *POOF* MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM The characters reconfigure MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM as a roof MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM A chimney appeared MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM when I turned back around MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM And somehow this Santa guy MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM slid right on down MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM His eyes were like asterisks, MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM his nose like an "o" MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM And his beard was all fluffed MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM (with parentheses, you know) MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM He spoke not a word, MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM but just zipped here and thereMW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM Don't know what he did MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM but he did it with flair MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM As he finished his job MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM he turned to face me MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM And 'fore flying away MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM Santa grinned sleepily MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM He said, "Tell them, *s*, MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM I read Boomers each day MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM "...if they're naughty or nice...MW /@'%',\o WM
MW ! WM well, I know either way. MW ! WM
MW -~*~- WM "Merry Xmas to all," said he, MW -~*~- WM
MW /!\ WM and looked upwards, too, MW /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ WM As he whispered so softly... MW /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o WM "And that includes Blue." MW o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ WM MW /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o WM *s* MW /@'%',\o WM
MW '^^^=^^^` WMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM '^^^=^^^` WM
MW ! ! ! ! ! ! WM
MW -~*~- -~*~- -~*~- -~*~- -~*~- -~*~- WM
MW /!\ /!\ /!\ /!\ /!\ /!\ WM
MW /%;@\ /%;@\ /%;@\ /%;@\ /%;@\ /%;@\ WM
MW o/@,%\o o/@,%\o o/@,%\o o/@,%\o o/@,%\o o/@,%\o WM
MW /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ /%;`@,\ WM
MW o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o o/@'%',\o WM
MW '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` '^^^=^^^` WM
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWhjwWWWWW
--
"Can you hear me that when it rains :: btls4fr@scn.org /||\\\
and shines, it's just a state of mind. :: sneese@esd171.wednet.edu @ @
Can you hear me?" -Lennon/McCartney :: etc. etc. etc. (_
"Here, There and Everywhere" ~
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: BowelExplosion1
From: Hauer (schmerz@sterben.de)
Subject: A Tuscaloosa Christmas Eve
Newsgroups: alabama.sports.alabama
Date: 2002-12-21 06:46:36 PST
A Tuscaloosa Christmas Eve
'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the streets
Drunken frat brothers
Puked on their feet.
And just when they thought
They'd throw up their toes
Each one of them gasped
And quick, pinched his nose.
For jolly old Al
Who had a big heart
Through bigger intestines
Blew huge cabbage farts.
They blasted and rumbled
From his anal rim
And some swore he farted
The national hymn.
A crowd gathered 'round
And stood there in awe
Until a kid said,
"Hey, it's Santa Claus!"
Al did look right merry
Bathed in the street lights
Dressed in his poncho
Of crimson and white.
His face was bright red
And the sound from his belly
Was not his last course
Of a bowl full of jelly,
But corned beef and cabbage
And tacos and beer
With pizza and wings
And glasses of cheer,
French fries and hot dogs
And ice cream so cold
Created a swell
That he could not hold.
He struggled and strained
To keep it inside
'Fore worshipping children
Their mouths open wide.
But Al knew for sure
That soon he would blow
And his big heart told him
To give them a show.
With one mighty shove
The pressurized gas
In the wink of an eye
Reached critical mass.
"On Rammer! On Jammer!"
His voice it did cry.
"You too, Yellow Hammer!
Tonight we will fly!"
The blast it propelled him
Way up on high
And all eyes they watched
As he streaked through the sky.
These words he did say
As he flew out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all,
And, dammit, Roll Tide!"
************************************************************
************************************************************
Short Title: BowelExplosion2
From: Magicalprose (magicalprose@aol.com)
Subject: Twas the Night Before Christmas(Comedic Version)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Date: 2002-12-26 10:13:20 PST
Hi,
This is a poem that I wrote a while back. It strays just a bit from the
innocent original.
Bob Thompson
Twas the night before Christmas
At the Main Place Mall.
I was desperately seeking
An empty toilet stall.
It began so innocently
With the #2Taco Platter.
But now something wasn't right
And it wasn't with my bladder.
My bowels were a bubblin
And what did I know?
I knew I must quickly
Find someplace to go!
O'er the fake packages, I sprang
With the grace of a gazelle.
Just where was the nearest restroom?
I pondered, as I fell.
I picked myself up
And continued my quest
Sidestepping one of Santa's elves
I headed off west.
Up ahead was my prize.
The men's restroom door.
It looked like I'd make it
If I could hold on a little more.
Inside, I went.
Just a few more feet.
Then I could relieve myself
On a toilet seat.
Gypsy boy and his nose ring
And I, in my cap.
Stood in line for the next stall.
Holding in a mean crap.
From somewhere close by
I heard a voluminous blast.
It appeared I was in trouble.
This place was stinking up fast.
The stall door opened
And I never heard a flush.
Out jumped a fat man
Whose suit was velvety plush.
HO HO HO!!, Santa laughed
That big stinky oaf.
He left me a nasty present
The size of a large meatlof.
Never mind his turd
I was finally on the pot.
Christmas came a little early.
I grunted, clentched and shot.
Merry Christmas from the Grotesque Greeting Card Co.
************************************************************
************************************************************
Matthew Monroe in Richland, WA
Last Modified January 7, 2007