Sunday, December 18, 2011

Twas the Night Before Christmas in Alabama

‘Twas the evening before Christmas
And through the trailer house
Not a varmint was stirring
Not even a louse

The stocking were stapled to the paneling with care
In hopes that ole Santa would get his tush there

The kids were all sleeping still wearing their clothes
While thoughts of electronics their dreams did compose
And momma in her nightgown and I in my briefs
Had just finished fighting just sorting our beefs

When out in the yard I heard such a racket
I grabbed for my gun off the deer hunting bracket
Away to the window near the old septic tank
I flipped up the shade and turned the big crank

The moon on the glow of my Ford pickup truck
Gave me plenty of light for some sitting duck
When what to wondering eyes did appear
But some crazy old man bringing me some deer

With a short little driver, so quick and so funny
I knew right away ‘tweren’t no Easter bunny
Faster than a Harley his twelve points flew down
And he actually named them, that crazy old clown

“C’mon Dasher!  Move it Dancer!  Now Prancer and Vixen!
Get going Comet, Cupid, and Donner and Blitzen!
Get up on the porch and climb up the wall!
I thought, “What a moron, those deer will all fall!”

But sure as dry leaves blow before a hurricane
They jump in the air when they got to the propane
So up on the tin roof those crazy bucks did fly
With a sleigh full of goods that could come from Best Buy

And then in a moment I heard overhead
The scratching of metal that’ll cost some bread
As I gathered myself and was turning about
Through the vent shaft Santa came tearing up grout

He was wearing a fur, from his foot to his head
I knew that PETA would want this man dead
A bag full of toys, he had hanging on his back
He looked like a bum, or someone on crack

His eyes had that twinkle!  His face was all merry!
His nose was all rosy, and his face was all hairy!
His funny little mouth had this silly lookin’ smile
And his beard needed trimming at least once in a while

The stump of a pipe he clenched tight in his lips
He smelled like my grandma, except now she just dips
He had a big head and a big belly too
That shook when he laughed, I thought he’d lost a screw

He was chubby and plump, a right crazy old coot,
And I laughed so hard, it nearly made me poot
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Made me kind of nervous, but there was nothing to dread

He never said a thing, but got straight into work
He filled all the stockings, I felt like a jerk
And laying his finger right beside his nose
And giving a nod, out the vent shaft he rose!

He got in his sled, to the deer gave a whistle
And off they flew like a rocketed missile
He yelled, “Merry Christmas!” as his image did dim
I guess he was Santa, glad I didn’t shoot him!  --- P. J. Casselman

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