Christmas Poem

Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through the hall,
derby gear was left airing,
it was break after all.
The jerseys and socks
were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that the smell
would be lest pungent over there.
Derby wives and widows
were nestled snug in their beds,
while visions of hockey helmets
danced in their heads.
Coach Doobie with a cigar,
and Pink’s wrist in a wrap,
had just settled their brains
for a brief x-mas break nap.
When out on the porch
there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed,
thankful for an empty bladder.
Away to the window
I flew like a flash,
almost slipping on a printed article
downloaded from Rink Rash.
The moon on the breast
of the new-fallen snow
reminded me I wasn’t wearing anything
up top or down below…
When, what to my wondering eyes
should appear,
but a miniature sleigh,
and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver,
so lively and quick,
I wondered if all the nog and rum
was making me sick…
More rapid than Jammers,
his coursers they came,
and he whistled, and shouted,
and called their hyphenated derby names!
“Now Dash-Her! now, Dance-Her!
Now, Prance-Her and Lil’Vixen!
On, Come-and-get-it! On, I’m-with-Cupid!
On Done-Her and Blitzed-again!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As he screamed at the poor deer,
I thought…wait a minute…
this St.Nick guy would make
the most excellent Pivot!
And then, in a twinkling,
I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing
of each little hoof.
After I ran for my housecoat,
and was turning around,
down the chimney
St Nick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in red,
and was a tad overweight,
he was in need of some dryland
and a bi-weekly skate.
The stump of a pipe
he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled
his head like a wreath.
I have to say, I was somewhat
impressed by St. Nick
and Doobie would definitely need to learn
this rad smoking trick.
He spoke not a word,
and I would have tasered his face,
but he just started placing gifts
all around my fireplace,
“Yo Nick” I muttered,
“I think I gotta head back to bed,
that nog and rum is really starting
to mess with my head… “
As I collapsed into my pillow,
and burrowed under the sheets,
I heard that old geezer
yelling out on the streets…
In his best “bad dog voice”,
ever so clear and even,
St. Nick hollered:
“Happy Derby Christmas to all, and to all a good season!”
Thank you to everyone who inspired this poem! Especially Coach Roller Doobie, Pink LemonRaid and 8mean Wheeler! 🙂 You guys rock!
Also, big thanks to Andi Struction for sending this in to Derby Deeds and Dump Truck for nailing it!


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