Twas Xmas 2020

Santa in the good old days/Wikimedia Commons

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land,
Hardly a person was traveling, though many had planned.
Still stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes St. Nicholas would Zoom in on a dare;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of school reopenings danced in their heads;
And mama in her mask, and I in my CPAP
Had just settled down to a long winter’s nap,

When out in the drive there arose such a clatter,
The Ring cam was needed to see what the matter.
So away to the laptop I flew in hurry,
Flipped up the screen and typed in a furry.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Lit up the objects in the camera below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an overloaded sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a chubby old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than rockets his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the Toro Ultra leafblower fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, rush to the sky,
So up to the house-top those deer they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I rolled back from the laptop, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed in recycled pile, from his head to his foot,
But his PC attire was all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like some dude with too big a pack.

His eyes – how they sparkled! his goodness how it hovered!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose properly covered;
His mouth was shrouded to stop viral flow,
But the beard of his chin beneath was as white as the snow;

A bottle of hand sanitizer he held in his hand,
And the label showed it an anti-COVID brand.
His broad face and dangerously round belly,
Shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right vulnerable old elf,
And I worried for him, in spite of myself;
But a wink of his eye and the pixelation of his head,
Soon gave me to know his virtual self had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, toward the flat-panel he rose.

On-screen he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the latest SpaceX missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he rocketed out of sight,

16 replies »

  1. Her renegade spirit will live on in the mountains forever.
    A pile of bones looking down on the world she was able to escape and finally be free.

  2. Nice. But remember my ode to Bessie the wandering cow? Dig that out of the archives. We should add some final lyrics. Something about Ravens and Bones.

  3. ” … mama in her mask, and I in my CPAP …”, my Macallan went down the wrong pipe when I read that line… funny!

  4. Craig,
    Well done, its good to find a good laugh in these days we find ourselves.
    Im wondering, could you ever see yourself not writing, just curious?
    Seems to me, certain people by personality traits seem to “steered”towards there passion or expertise.

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