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: Bowling1 Author: Marc Stern Email: mityquackr@aol.com Date: 1998/12/15 Forums: alt.sport.bowling Holiday Bowling Twas the night before XMAS And all throughout the shop Not a kegler was stirring Not even a pop All nestled in bed With dreams of the perfect shot They hoped St. Nick Gave them a ball that was hot But St. Nick was standing there Just dazed and confused With all this new equipment He didnt know what to do Whats Brunswick doing With so many balls on the rack The Zones are a bit much As all the Elites by Track The game is turning into golf You get a new ball to adjust But with the market so flooded Half the balls are a bust He looked at his list With a sneer on his face Like the Omega Lion This is simply a disgrace. AMF stock is down Walter Rays a bore And whats with Columbia And their Titanium core? Take the game by Storm? Or Webb and his RX? Glow in the dark balls? Who needs those damn effects? Faball or Hammer Whats that companys name? The hell with this science Bowlings just a game A Quantum Helix Thats kinda catchy Then he saw the price of it Holy shit is that pricey! But Nick looked over Saw the keglers sleeping in bed And knew if he didnt get them what they want He was simply going to be dead. Ever so quietly He dropped a ball in each stocking He glanced at his watch It was getting close to morning! On Roth! On Anthony! Lets go watch some Seinfeld Because Im going to be sick If I see another ad with Jeremy Sonnenfeld. And off he went With his Dexters over his shoulder He opened the door and said Oy! Its getting colder! The bowlers woke up And were they shocked to discover That Ol St. Nick Left them each a Manhattan Rubber Have a happy holiday! - Marc ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Bowling2 From: Marc Stern Date: 12/9/2001 TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BOWLER'S XMAS... PART II BY MARC STERN (mityquackr@aol.com) 'twas the night before XMAS And all through the house Not a creature was stirring Not even a mouse As Santa climbed down the chimney And hit the creaky floor His eyes were wide with fright "Oh shit, I've been here before." "This is where the bowlers live "Who whine more than Gore." He whipped out his Palm Pilot And nicknamed this house as "The Ball Whore" "These people are never happy "No matter what they get" Santa slowly realized This year his match may have been met The elves, yes the elves! They prepared him this year! They loaded Santa with the latest and greatest And out went Santa's fear! Santa scratched his beard He sucked in his gut He looked in his bag And said "I'm fucked." Brunswick Rhinos? Columbia Cudas? What St. Nick wouldn't give right now For a trip to Bermuda Those stinkin' elves Set Santa up for a fall The bowlers would be coming for Santa's head 'cause heaven knows that they have the gall He looked at his Palm Pilot Hoping to find a clue But he should have known better That his membership was overdue He knows how to get out of this The answer was in his pocket He whipped out the cell phone And called up Codename: Rocket "It's Nick, I'm in a jam" He said into the phone "If you don't help me soon "They'll tear me to my bones" But help did not arrive in time The bowlers knew Santa by sight They smiled and said to Santa's surprise "Hey Nick, it's all right." "We know it's confusing "And at times it's downright mean "50 billion bowling balls being released "And most of them are by theme" "Track thinks they're the mafia "With balls like 'Silencer' and 'Assassin' "Put any dangerous situation in front of 'Zone' "Is what Brunswick's a thinkin'" "Storm has their scratch and sniff "Which is all fine and dandy "But enough of the fruit crap "We want ones that smells like candy." "Hammer's going retro "Going back to the offset and the 'thane" "Hey Nick, get them to make a ball that works "We're not entirely vain." "Ebonite's got so many lines "It's hard to keep track "But like most of their products "They eventually wind up on the rack." "AMF stock is still down Despite their Nighthawk line Hey Nick, can you do me favor? Increase their value so I can make a dime?" "Columbia's got the new Rock line What's up with that Is their logo the People's Champ? Or Fred Flinstone with a hard hat?" St. Nick looked and smiled Hoping for a chance to escape He was hoping The Rocket would appear When it's not too late. There was a tap at the window But the bowlers realized that it was not an angel from heaven It was Codename: Rocket, Or Rudolph with an AK-47 "Hey Santa, let's go all ready" Rudolph said with a gleam "I'm sure none of these guys "Want to take one for the team." "Why, Santa, why?" Asked a bowler as Santa headed up the chimney "Whatever happened to the times "When all you wanted was some milk and a cookie?" Old St. Nick looked at Alan And whispered something into his ear "Hey, forget the old times, will ya? "All I want is an ice cold beer." "No one wants a toy train any more "And you whores are the worst "If I hear you complain any more "My web site's going to burst." "Everyone wants the times to change "And they want their games to improve "None of you want to do the basics "And learn how to move." "That is my gift to this house "During this festive time "Go back to basics "And I'll guarantee the front 9" Up the chimney Ol' St. Nick went But the bowlers below Were extremely bent Santa looked at his list And something grabbed his attention "Let's get to Florida "And fix that damn election." ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Bowling3 From: Marc Stern Date: 12/16/2001 TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BOWLER'S XMAS... PART III BY MARC STERN / MityQuackr@aol.com 'twas the night before XMAS And all through the house Not a bowler was stirring Not even the louse All dreaming of walled shots And shooting the honor score Where they would become a legend And become a mystical piece of folklore They wrote to Santa Claus Looking for the ball to help them on their way Heaven forbid if they improve their skill Why earn if they nearly have to pay St. Nick ran his hand through his beard And he took a puff out of his pipe He eyed through the list And his hand against his head did he wipe "It gets crazier every year" Santa said with disgust "They all want new bowling balls "Yet their game is still bust." "Is AMF still in business? "What is the deal? "Can someone please call Faball? "And get rid of that darn Wheel?" "Quantum is no longer around "Brunswick cut their staff which is ashame "Does Columbia think they're into wrestling "With names like 'The Rock' and 'The Game'?" "Storm still stinks "And I mean that literally "What happened to Manhattan Rubber? "That's what I used when I was thirty." "Track is no longer on the Mafia kick "But now they are with EMB "NuLine is a separate company "But they're both the same to me" "The Optyx by Ebonite "That's kinda catchy" Then he looked away in disgust "Shit, is that pricey!" Santa's eyes lit up "The 'Elixir' is a neat little name" But his happiness quickly faded "Forget it, it's made by Dynothane" "Who are Morich and Rotogrip? "Are they even for real "As my friend Hanukah Harry says " 'Vaht's the deal?'" He looked around With his trophies on the mantle He knew that compared to him These bowlers couldn't hold a candle. He powered on his PC And loaded MS Word Not that he disliked Macs But this was all he could afford "Dear whiney bowler," Santa started typing "Listen to what I have to say "'Cause I'm tired of hearing your whining" "You get better with practice "Despite what the ball claims say "Why do you need a ball that hooks 30 boards "When up 10 is all you normally play?" "Just because the ball hits the 1-3 "Or the 1-2 if you are a lefty "It doesn't always mean "In Frame 1 it says '30'" "Not everyone can average a deuce "Let's make that loud and clear "Some bowlers were meant to strike "Others to keep drinking beer." "Learn to read the angle "Learn to feel your release "Once you got that down "Your game will be at peace." Santa saved the file Then sent it to his printer He copied it to his web page Which his elves made for him this winter So no matter your religion Whether you're Christian, Islamic, Buddhist, or Jew The pins don't know the difference So a 300 game I wish on to you. ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Boxing1 From: Bobby Bearden (thonn@digitalexp.com) Subject: Night Before Christmas for RSB Newsgroups: rec.sport.boxing Date: 2001-12-23 21:22:57 PST This is something I wrote last year on RSB and I wouldn't bother with it again but, damned if it's not Christmas yet again. Anyway, hope some of you who missed it might enjoy something light to read. Twas the night before Christmas throughout boxing land. With the elves still debating Leonard-Duran. I'd just settled in with a cup of egg nog fired up my computer, and checked my mail log, When a voice in my head, Yeah, I hear them, you see, said, "Jump to the newsgroups and check RSB." The debating, berating, "I know more than you!" the timeless old question of, "Who could beat who?" The trollers and strollers, and resident scribes, like glitter and lights, on a tree made of jibes. "Is Roy Jones a coward?" "Was Ali the best?" "Can Tyson, the nut case, give Lewis a test?" Through this jumble and tumble of "maybe, who knows?" From the roof of my house, a clatter arose. And I ran to the window, to see what's amiss, when I saw such a site, that I gave up Old Mist. There a fat, jolly fellow, Butterbean all in red? Was driving a heap, that I took for a sled. And the creatures that pulled it, reindeer I suppose, Were led by a moose, with a glowing red nose. And he called out loudly, as he took up the reigns, "Get pulling this wagon, for I beat out your brains! On Tyson, and Lewis, pull Hamed, you lout! You're slacking there, Mosely, don't make me get out! On Vargas and Tito, quit bickering, you two, or I'll show you some more of the toe of my shoe! And Roy quit begging, to move down the line, You'll pull where I put you, so give up the whine. Now Andrew, you lummox, don't think you can quit, we've gifts to deliver, so get over it." And they slid from the roof, in a dazzle of snow, and I thought sure they'd crash, on the street far below. But the sled-thing went upwards, like the hair on King's head, and the reindeer with odd names, and the moose with nose red. They flew away skyward, with the grace of duck, broke TV antennas, grazed the top of a truck, and I swore that I heard, for they lumbered from sight, "Merry Christmas to all . quit biting, there, Mike!" Merry Christmas by Bobby Bearden ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Boxing2 From: Bobby Bearden (thonn@gtcom.net) Subject: Twas the Night Before Christmas updated/reposted Newsgroups: rec.sport.boxing Date: 2002-12-22 00:56:05 PST It's almost Christmas, so I thought I'd update and repost my version of The Night Before Christmas for those who weren't here on RSB last year. Twas the night before Christmas throughout boxing land. With the elves still debating Leonard-Duran. I'd just settled in with a cup of egg nog fired up my computer, and checked my mail log, When a voice in my head, Yeah, I hear them, you see, said, "Jump to the newsgroups and check RSB." The debating, berating, "I know more than you!" the timeless old question of, "Who could beat who?" The trollers and strollers, and resident scribes, like glitter and lights, on a tree made of jibes. "Will Jones fight Ruiz?" "Was Ali the best?" "Can Tyson in rematch, give Lewis a test?" Through this jumble and tumble of "maybe, who knows?" From the roof of my house, a clatter arose. And I ran to the window, to see what's amiss, when I saw such a site, that I gave up Old Mist. There a fat, jolly fellow, Butterbean all in red? Was driving a heap, that I took for a sled. And the creatures that pulled it, reindeer I suppose, Were led by a moose, with a glowing red nose. And he called out loudly, as he took up the reigns, "Get pulling this wagon, for I beat out your brains! On Tyson, and Lewis, pull Tua, you lout! You're slacking there, Mosely, don't make me get out! On Arum and King, quit bickering, you two, or I'll show you some more of the toe of my shoe! And Roy quit complaining, about all the freight, your alphabet straps, make up half the weight. Now Tito and Hamed, don't think you can quit, we've gifts to deliver, so get over it. Quit butting, Evander, Ruiz, don't you clinch, or it's back to Whoville to pull for the Grinch." And they slid from the roof, in a dazzle of snow, and I thought sure they'd crash, on the street far below. But the sled-thing went upwards, like the hair on King's head, and the reindeer with odd names, and the moose with nose red. They flew away skyward, with the grace of duck, broke TV antennas, grazed the top of a truck, and I swore that I heard, for they lumbered from sight, "Merry Christmas to all . quit biting, there, Mike!" Bobby Bearden ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: BradPitt Author: Cloud Email: cloud@ptd.net Date: 1998/12/13 Forums: alt.fan.brad-pitt Fill in the blanks with the names you think most appropriate. Brenda 'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the theater Not a person was stirring, not even the heater The movie goers were all watching the screen with care In hopes that Meet Joe Black would soon be playing there The children were nestled all snug in their beds While mama had visions other than sugar plums in her head They shuffled and shifted, waiting for the film Had just settled in, as the lights began to dim When out in the lobby, there arouse such a clatter We sprang from our seats to see what was the matter Away to the exit we flew like a flash Tore through the crowds and let out a gasp The lights of the marquee were aglow And reflected off the limo parked below When what to our wondering eyes should appear But Brad Pitt, on my dear!! Our unbelieving eyes didn't blink, but our hearts raced We let out a yell and picked up the pace More rapid than eagles, his fans they came They whistled and shouted and called out his name Oh Brad, over here, NO--NOT THERE, Over HERE!! On Nikes, on Reeboks, on spike heels they raced from the rear To the front of the lobby, pushing along the wall Now get out of my way! Out of my way , all!! Now through the aisles, along the concessions And even over ushers, we made quite a procession So up to the main entrance, the fans they flew With scraps of paper, ever closer they drew And in a twinkling, a mob did appear The scrabbling and skittering of each high heel, I did hear As we approached, I heard the oohs and aahhs Down the aisle he came, to a round of applause He was dressed all in black, from his head to his feet We swear our hearts all skipped a beat If he wanted female companionship there sure wasn't a lack And there was ___________&___________, leading the pack! His eyes how they twinkled, his hair how golden And we all pictured how it would be, if it was us he was holding The yelling, the shouting, it was unending You see, he looked just like an angel descending His eyes how they twinkled, his smile so lazy One and all, we were going crazy His mouth so kissable It was damn near irresistible There were a few in the crowd who wanted to sink in their teeth And lo and behold there was Lynda, encircling him like a wreath! He had a legion of fans and very little space A lot longing for a little face to face There was __________&_________, and even an elf They didn't matter, I wanted him for myself! With a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head I had visions of him, filling my bed!! He spoke not a word, but posed for a pic He signed a few autographs, and the clock gave a tick Then waving to the crowd, he turned to go We yelled, "Please! Say it isn't so!" He sprang into his limo, the crowd gave a bound And started chasing it like racing greyhounds But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!! ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Breakfast(AltTwoEggsSausageEtc)
Author: Mickyfinn
Email: mickeyfinn@sprint.ca
Date: 1998/12/23
Forums: alt.2eggs.sausage.beans.tomatoes.2toast.largetea.cheerslove
1823: The poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas" by Clement C. Moore
("T'was the night before Christmas...") was published anonymously
in the Troy (N.Y.) Sentinel.
In the spirit of that, here's my version,
The Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the group
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Nosmo;
The sausages were hung in the kitchen with care,
In hopes that Dr. Strange,Love soon would be there;
The froupies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of 2 eggs danced in their heads;
And Vivanne in her Doc Martens, and Luc with her cake,
Had just settled down for a nice cuppa tea,
When out on the net there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the server I flew like a flash,
Signed on real quick and down-loaded the stash.
The moon on the breast of the newly-plucked hen
Gave the lustre of roasting to the grits below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Fry-pan, and eight tiny potatoes,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Reverend Shadow
More rapid than eagles her coursers they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, NIMROD! now, SPUDDIE! now, KLUTECATE and LILPEACH!
On, BATCH! on NEVYN! on, MOLESWORTH and MUDZ!
To the top of the chair! to the top of the wall!
Now bake away! fry away! grill away all!"
As dried Weetabix that before the wild Humbug fly,
When they meet with an milk jug, mush to the side,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the pan full of sausages, and Dr. Strange,Love too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard by the sink
The sizzling and popping of each greasy link.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Through the caf door Dr. Strange,Love came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Leather, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all soiled with grease and eggy-soot;
A bundle of food he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were well-fondled, his ***** like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a arse-candle he held tight in his *****,
And the smoke it encircled his waist like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a Bazful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
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 I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And ate all the breakfast; that hungry old jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He shouted "Yer Momma" and up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his pan, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY BREAKFAST TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
--
Mickyfinn
Merry Christmas everyone
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Short Title: BrettMeisner(MusicCritic) From: rockandrollbadboy (brettmeisner@hotmail.com) Subject: Very Important Message!!!! Newsgroups: alt.gossip.celebrities, rec.music.gdead, rec.music.artists.springsteen, rec.music.artists.kiss Date: 2003-12-24 23:28:03 PST 'Twas the night before Christmas, and all cross the land Brett Meisner was winning, exactly as planned; The losers who were jealous, now knew he was right, Even the homos became less uptight; As Meisner was nestled in a King-sized bed, Three strippers from Crazy Girls were giving him head; A knock on the door prompted a call of "Who is it?," As Gregg Allman arrived for his holiday visit. Soon out in the Hall, appeared a large crowd, The hotel staff complained, as we were too loud!; The party just starting, Gregg called up Slash, I invited more girls, and Slash cranked up the Clash. The headlights from Sunset filled the room with a glow, As Gregg and Slash talked, "jacked up" on blow. And thru the valet parking, there arrived a large Hearst; And out from the car stepped rocker Fred Durst! As the Hearst parked, out stepped some whores, Strippers from New York, mostly from Scores; And in the backseat we spied David Spade, Begging the girls for a chance to get laid! "Hey Cindy, Hey Chloe, Hey Amber, Hey Beth," David Spade screamed from the car at the top of his breath; "I'll give you drugs, I just need a honey'" "I'm so desperate for love, I'll even pay money!" The whores they just laughed, they couldn't stand Spade, They mocked his fake hairdo and said he "was played!" They wanted Brett Meisner, that was a must, Their crotches so sweaty, ready for lust! So there is the lobby, stood this gaggle of chicks, Ready for celebrities with large famous dicks; They chanted for "MEISNER!" as they stomped on the floor, They flashed their "hay nanny nannies" toward Brett's penthouse door. He was dressed to the nines as the doors opened wide, Brett walked into the lobby with a "rock star" stride; His fans and the whores they yelled out his name, Some of them fainted, most of them came! Brett's shades looked way cool, his hair looked just right, Dressed like a model, with those jeans oh so tight! With a "Rock Star" face that few could resist, Brett soon lost count of all the chicks he had kissed. Brett moved thought the crowd and pushed them aside, He waited for Tommy Lee and their oncoming ride. "Off to the Viper Room!" Brett would command, As he and his crew stalked out the next band. As they moved down the strip nearing the bar, Some homeless men approached, surrounding their car. "Give me a dollar!" shouted an angry Negro fellow, As Brett and his crew became much less than mellow. Brett jumped from his ride, feeling quite frisky, He approached the Negro man - Dude that was risky! "Do you mean us harm?" Brett needed to ask. The black dude just shrugged and pulled on his flask. Brett looked at the black man and then he looked at the moon, He thought about Gregg Allman and those in his room. He thought about Christmas and the holiday season; And then he said "fuck it!" Serious. You guys can blow me. BRETT MEISNER - www.rockandrollbadboy.com - HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Bronx The night before Christmas...... (An ex-Nutworks twisted tale) 'Twas the night before Christmas, an all through the block, Not a creature was stirring, not even Ed Kotch. The stockings were hung, by the furnace with care. In hopes that by morning, they'd all still be there. Me an this skank, were just getting ready for bed. I wore pajamas, she had a paper bag for her head. When up on the roof, I heard a big crash, I thought it was a burglar, I was gonna kick ass! I went out on the fire escape, looked up in the sky, An what did I see, but this freakin fat guy! With a red suit and boots, that came up to his knees, In the moonlight he looked, just like Dom DeLouise. He had a big sled, being pulled by reindeer. He called one of them Dancer, so I assumed he was queer. As he crept off the roof, it became clear to me, That this guy was lookin, to steal my TV! Over his shoulder, he had a big sack. He came down the stairs, while I planned my attack. I waited a second, till the time it seemed ripe. Bopped him on the head, * botta bing * with a pipe! He fell to the floor, with a groan and a thud. I was kinda surprised, that I didn't see blood. Instead he rolled over, looked me in the eye. When I saw who I'd hit, I near started to cry. I said "Hey 'yo Santa, I'm sorry all right?" "Not for nuttin" he said, "but this just ain't my night!" "I got lost in the Bronx, ran over some Nuns." "Had a near miss by Kennedy, Rudolf's got the runs..." "I'm out all freakin night, I'm bustin my hump." "But I can't finish now, not with this lump!" "So do me a favor, and be a real pal." "Take over for me...be Santa Sal." I say 'Yo! I'm from Brooklyn, I ain't right for the part. But he says that Santa Claus, comes from the heart. He made me a offer, I couldn't refuse. Stop at every house....except for the Jews! I got into the suit, jumped onto the sleigh, Wondering just why it was, reindeer smelled that way. Took off on my mission, didn't want to be late. While old Nick spent the night, hosin' my date. That night I was Santa, bringing kids joy and bliss. And if you don't believe that...hey, jingle dis! Since then I been with him, each year in the cold. Riding shotgun with Santa, 'cause he's fat, and he's old. I'm his number one helper, I been deputized. So on this Christmas Eve, don't you be surprised. If you hear a voice say, real loud and abrupt. "Merry Christmas to all, thanks alot...eh - shutup!" ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Brooklyn1 Subject: Re: Night before Christmas - Brooklyn Style From: statmanjs@aol.com (StatManJS) Date: 1997/12/19 Message-ID: <19971219225300.RAA20723@ladder01.news.aol.com> Newsgroups: alt.fan.don-imus Twas the night before Christmas This version was originally written in 1987 try saying it with a Brooklyn accent Twas da night before Christmas, and all tru da blcok Not a creature was stirrin, not even Ed Koch Da stockins were hung by da furnace wit care In hopes that by mornin they'd all still be there Me and this skank was gettin ready for bed I wore pajamas She had a paper bag for her head When up on da roof I heard dis big crash Thoughy it was burgular I was gonna kick ass I went out on da firescape Looked up in da sky And what did I see Dis freakin fat guy Wit a red suit and boots Dat came up to his knees In da moonlight he looked Just like Dom Deluise He had a big sled Pulled by deese reindeer He called one of them dancer So I assumed he was queer As he crept off the roof It became clear to me Dat dis guy was looking To steal my TV Over his shoulder He had a big sack He came down the stairs as I planned my attack I waited a second Until the time had seem ripe Smacked him in da head Badda-bing wit a pipe He fell to the floor Wit a groan and a tud I was kinda surprised Dat I didnt see blood Instead, he rolled over looked me in da eye When i seen whod I d hit I near started to cry I said "yo santa ,, I'm sorry alright? Not for nuttin he said "But this aint my night" I got lost in da Bronx, I ran over some nuns, Had a near miss by kennedy, Rudolph's got da runs I'm out all freakin night Bustin my hump But I cant continue now Not wit dis bump So do me a favor and be a real pal Take over for me and be Santa, Sal I said, "yo i'm from brooklyn I aint right for da part" But he said bein Santa comes from da heart He made me an offer I couldnt refuse Stop at every house.......... 'cept for da JEWS I got into da suit and stepped onto the sleigh Wondering just why reindeer smelled dat way Took off on my mission Didnt wanna be late While ol St Nick spended the night Hosin my date Dat night I was Santa Bringin kids joy and bliss And if you dont believe me Then hey, JINGLE DIS Since then i've been wit him Each year in da cold Ridin shotgun wit Santa Cause he's fat and he's old I'm his number one helper I've been deputized.... So on dis Christmas eve Don't youse be surprised If you hear a voice say Real loud and abrupt Merry Christmas to all Thanks alot-- Shut up!!! ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Brooklyn2
Author: Ratbat
Email: ratbat@DONTSPAMMEcyberdude.com
Date: 1998/12/23
Forums: alt.acme.exploding.newsgroup
'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS -
BROOKLYN VERSION
'Twas the night before Christmas,
Da whole house was mellow,
Not a creature was stirrin',
I had a gun unda my pillow.
When up on da roof'
I heard somethin' pound,
I sprung to da window,
To scream, "YO! Keep it down!"
When what to my Wanderin'
eyes should appear,
But dat hairy elf Vinny,
And eight friggin' reindeer.
Wit' a bad hackin' cough,
And da stencha burped beer,
I knew in a moment
Yo, da Kringle wuz here!
Wit' a slap to dere snouts,
And a yank on dere manes,
He cursed and he shouted,
And he called dem by name.
"Yo Tony, Yo Frankie,
Yo Sally, Yo Vito,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie,
Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!"
As I drew out my gun
And hid by da bed,
Down came his boot
On da top a my head.
His eyes were all bloodshot,
His b.o. wuz scary,
His breath wuz like sewage,
He had a mole dat wuz hairy.
He spit in my eye,
And he twisted my head,
He soon let me know
I should consider myself dead.
Den pointin' a fat finga
Right unda my nose,
He let out some gas,
And up da chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh,
.....screaming,
And away dey all flew,
Before he troo dem a beatin'.
But I heard him exclaim,
Or better yet grump,
"Merry Christmas to all, and
Bite me, ya hump!"
[by Joe Quesada and Jimmy Palmiotti,
according to http://www.spring-tree.com/christmas.html]
--
Ratbat
|
ratbatATcyberdude.com (change AT to @ to reply)
ICQ 18773736
http://www.potnoodle.co.uk/
Pot Noodle
It's the dog's dangly bits
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Short Title: Brooklyn3 Author: Ricko Email: ricko@enterprise.net Date: 1998/11/27 Forums: alt.tasteless.jokes 'Twas the night before Christmas, Da whole house was mella, Not a creature was stirrin', Cuz I had a gun unda da pilla. When up on da roof I heard somethin' pound, I sprung to da winda, To scream, "YO! Keep it down!" When what to my Wanderin' eyes should appear, But da Don of all elfs, And eight friggin' reindeer! Wit' slicked back black hair, And a silk red suit, don Christopher wuz here, And he brought da loot! Wit' a slap to dare snouts, And a yank on dare manes, He cursed and he shouted, And he called dem by name. "Yo Tony, Yo Frankie, Yo Vinny, Yo Vito, Ay Joey, Ay Paulie, Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!" As I drew out my gun And hid by da bed, He flew troo da winda And slapped me 'side da head. "What da hell you doin' Pullin' a gun on da Don? Now all you're gettin' is coal, You friggin' moron!" Den pointin' a fat finga Right unda my nose, He twisted his pinky ring, And up da chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, Obscenities screamin', Away dey all flew, Before he troo dem a beatin'. Den I heard him yell out, What I did least expect, "Merry Friggin' Christmas to all, And yous better show some respect!" http://homepages.enterprise.net/ricko ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Brooklyn4
Author: Tomarkfn94
Email: tomarkfn94@aol.com
Date: 1998/12/25
Forums: alt.fan.rob-bartlett
Sal Monella's "Night Before Christmas in Brooklyn"
by Rob Bartlett
(Note: This is the "live in concert" version. The on-air
version varies slightly in the 1st verse.) To be recited in a
strong Brooklyn dialect.
Twas the night before Christmas in Sheepshead Bay
The kids was asleep, waitin' for da big day.
Me and da skank was gettin' ready for bed,
I wore pajamas ... she had a paper bag for her head.
When up on the roof, I heard dis big crash
Thought it was a burglar; I was gonna kick ass.
Went out on the fire escape and looked up in the sky
And what did I see - this freakin' fat guy !
With a red suit and boots that came up to his knees
In the moonlight he looked just like ... Dom DeLuise.
He had this big sled pulled by dese reindeer
He called one o' dem Dancer, so I assumed he was queer.
As he crept off the roof it became clear to me
That dis guy was lookin' to steal my TV !
Over his shoulder he had a big sack.
He came down the stairs while I planned my attack.
I waited a second 'til the timing seemed right,
And smacked him on da head - ba da bing - with a pipe.
He fell to the floor with a groan and a thud.
I was kinda surprised ... I didn't see blood.
Instead he rolled over and looked me in the eye
When I saw who I'd hit I near started to cry.
I said "Hey, yo, Santa I'm sorry alright ?"
"Not for nuttin', he said, but this just ain't my night.
I got lost in da Bronx, ran over some nuns,
Had a near miss by Kennedy, Rudolph's got da runs.
I'm out all freakin' night, bustin' my hump
But I can't continue now - not wit dis lump.
So do me a favor ... be a real pal
Take over for me - YOU be Santa Sal !"
I said "I'm from Brooklyn, I ain't right for da part."
But he said Santa Claus comes from the heart.
He made me an offer I couldn't refuse.
Stop at every house - 'cept fo da Jews.
I got into da suit and jumped onto the sleigh,
Wondering why reindeer smell dat way ?
Took off on my mission ... didn't wanna be late.
While Ol' Saint Nick spent the night hosin' my date.
That night I was Santa, bringing kids joy and bliss
And if you don't believe me ..... hey, jingle dis !!!
I'm his Number One helper, I been deputized.
So on dis Christmas Eve don't youse be surprised
If you hear a voice say - real loud and abrupt ........
"Merry Christmas to All - Thanks A Lot - Shut Up."
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Short Title: BuhShit From: David Vincent (Nokturnal_Sodomizer_666@sodomize_pedos.net) Subject: Re: The Night Before Christmas in the land of buh.shit Newsgroups: buh.shit, alt.fan.kate, alt.fan.natasha, alt.y2trolls, alt.config, alt.fan.air Date: 2001-12-23 19:02:05 PST frog@cymru-man.com (Frogbutt) wrote in news:a03qch$nov$0@pita.alt.net: 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through buh.shit Not a webbie was stirring, not a single retarded misfit; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Frogbutt soon would be there; The dumbshits were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of St. Frogbutt's bare ass danced in their heads; And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my bunk, Had just settled down for a long winter's drunk, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like sprinter in a trance, Tore open the shutters and pulled down my pants. The moon on the breasts of Kate standing naked in the snow, Gave Old Turd a bone, and made Obiwannosi's face glow. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature beer lory, and eight tiny reindeer, With a drunken old driver with a giant beer gut, I knew in a moment it must be St. Frogbutt. More rapid than eagles his curses they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them insane; "Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN! On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONDER and BLITZEN! What the hell are you doing? Did you not hear me call? You're going to crash into that fucking wall!" Like Cindyann running from NOKTURNAL SODOMIZER they did fly, Little does he know, Cindyann used to be a guy! So up to the house-top the reindeer they flew, With the sleigh full of Brains, and St. Frogbutt too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I took my hand off my dick, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Frogbutt came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all stained with beer, puke, and soot; Two cases of beer he had flung on his back, And he looked like a thief with a giant nutsack. His eyes -- they were bloodshot! his face it was hairy! His cheeks were like roses, his nose red as a cherry! Around his mouth the flys did linger, And his right hand had an upraised middle finger! The roach of a joint he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; He had a broad face and a big fat beer belly, That shook, when he swore like a bowlful of jelly. He had a nice ass, a right jolly old elf, 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 I had everything to dread; He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And stole everything is sight, God what a jerk, And sticking his finger inside of his nose, He flipped me a bugger and up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his lory, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!" PPPTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTTHTHTHTHTHTH!!!!!!!! ************************************************************ ************************************************************