If you have IE, you're listening to an arrangement of Santa Claus is Coming to Town

by the United States Air Force Academy Band


Three years ago, I opened my internet domain just before Christmas. What motivated me to do so was a poem that was sent to me by my daughter Heather. It was a variation of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas in which Santa lands in the desert. At that time, some family members and friends were in Iraq so I decided to put together a page to cheer up the troops.

This year, I've added decided some more parodies of the famous 'Twas poem. Who does not need some Christmas cheer? Read the whole page or just click on your area of interest below. To return to the top of the page, click the bells when you see them.  This web set was a Christmas gift offered by Moon and Back Graphics.  Visit my home page for more holiday specials.  Links are at the bottom of this page.

This page is especially for USMC Colonel Duane T. Silvestri, my beloved brother-in-law who is Back from Iraq, and, for Robert Kahler, who is still out there with the US Army.  Stay safe!

Florida Genealogists Programmers
Lawyers Texas Politically Correct

star to return


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 ST. NICHOLAS soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

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 a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects 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 knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles 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 wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers 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 drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys 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 like roses, his nose 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 pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful 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 filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, 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."

Attributed to Clement C. Moore

Source: Urban Legends



'Twas the Night Before Christmas

in Florida

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town,
no noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down,
no children in flannels were tucked into bed,
they all wore shorty pajamas instead.

To find wreaths of holly, t' was not very hard,
for holly trees grew in every back yard.
In front of the houses, Dads and Moms were
adorning the bushes and coconut palms.

The sleeping kiddies were dreaming in glee,
hoping to find water skis under the tree.
They all knew that Santa was well on his way,
in a Mercedes-Benz, instead of a sleigh.

And soon he arrived and started to work,
he hadn't a second to linger or shirk.
He whizzed up the highways and zoomed up the road,
in a S-L 300, delivering his loads.

The tropical moon gave the city a glow,
and lighted the way for old Santa below.
As he jumped from the auto he gave a wee chuckle,
he was dressed in Bermudas with an Ivy league buckle,

There weren't any chimneys, but that caused no gloom,
for Santa came in through the Florida room.
He stopped at each house....stayed only a minute,
emptying his sack of stuff that was in it.

Before he departed, he treated himself
to a glass of papaya juice upon the shelf.
He turned with a jerk and bounced to the car,
remembering he still had to go very far.

He shifted the gears and stepped on the gas
and up Highway 436 he went like a flash.
And I heard him exclaim as he went on his way,
"Merry Christmas Y'all, I Wish I Could Stay!"

Source: Netcore



'Twas the Night Before Christmas

for the Politically Correct


'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves."
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And Labour conditions at the North Pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with four pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard roof noises up on their roof-tops.
Smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur-trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf would sue o'er the use of his nose
And had gone on the TV, in front of the nation
Asking millions of dollars in due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd had enough of this life,
Joined a self-helping group, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause such commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim and nothing to shoot.

Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls, or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike and so, non-pacific.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales too, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie...(just better off hidden.)
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who said the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, not football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to the dirt.
Dolls were too sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo, 'twas found, rots your brain cells away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just couldn't figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
(But you've got to be careful with that word today.)

His sack was quite empty, lay limp on the ground;
No suitable gift for this year could be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people and every religion;
Every ethnicity, each color and hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even to you.

So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."

Source: Peacock Family


'Twas the Night Before Christmas

in Texas

'Twas the night before Christmas, in Texas , you know.
Way out on the prairie, without any snow.
Asleep in their cabin, were Buddy and Sue,
A dreamin' of Christmas, like me and you.

Not stockings, but boots, at the foot of their bed,
For this was Texas , what more need be said,
When all of a sudden, from out of the still night,
There came such a ruckus, it gave me a fright.

And I saw 'cross the prairie, like a shot from a gun,
A loaded up buckboard, come on at a run,
The driver was "Geein" and "Hawin", with a will,
The horses (not reindeer) he drove with such skill.

"Come on there Buck, Poncho, & Prince, to the right,
There'll be plenty of travelin' for you all tonight."
The driver in Levi's and a shirt that was red,
Had a ten-gallon Stetson on top of his head.

As he stepped from the buckboard, he was really a sight,
With his beard and moustache, so curly and white.
As he burst in the cabin, the children awoke,
And were so astonished, that neither one spoke.

And he filled up their boots with such presents galore,
That neither could think of a single thing more.
When Buddy recovered the use of his jaws,
He asked in a whisper, "Are you really Santa Claus?"

"Am I the real Santa? Well, what do you think?"
And he smiled as he gave a mysterious wink.
Then he leaped in his buckboard, and called back in his drawl,
"To all the children in Texas , Merry Christmas, You-all"

Source: Dezert Rose


'Twas the Night Before Christmas

for Intellectuals


'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself, thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus rangifer, piloted by a miniscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power traveling at what may have more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alarm predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen: Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer, etc., through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180 degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved, with utmost celerity and via a downward leap, entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebon residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.

His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his sub maxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of albions floral emblem, the latter that of the prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose gray fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more or less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me risibly rolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of his task, he executed an abrupt about face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his miniscule forward in a gesture of leave taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating in reverse the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility, "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that selfsame assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."

Source: Tufts



'Twas the Night Before Christmas

for Genealogists


'Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even my spouse.

   The dining room table with clutter was spread
With pedigree charts and with letters which said...
"Too bad about the data for which you wrote;
Sank in a storm on an ill-fated boat."

   Stacks of old copies of wills and such
Were proof that my work had become too much.
Our children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.

   And I at my table was ready to drop
From work on my album with photos to crop.
Christmas was here, and such was my lot
That presents and goodies and toys I'd forgot.

   Had I not been busy with grandparents' wills,
I'd not have forgotten to shop for such thrills,
While others bought gifts to bring Christmas cheers,
I'd spent time researching those birth dates and years.

   While I was thus musing about my sad plight,
A strange noise on the lawn gave me such a great fright.
Away to the window I flew in a flash,
Tore open the drapes and yanked up the sash.

   When what with my wondering eyes should appear,
But an overstuffed sleigh and eight small reindeer.
Up to the house top the reindeer they flew,
With a sleigh full of toys and 'ole Santa Claus, too.

   And then in a twinkle, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of thirty-two hoofs.
As I drew in my head, and bumped it on the sash,
Down the cold chimney fell Santa--KER-RASH!

   "Dear" Santa had come from the roof in a wreck,
And tracked soot on the carpet, (I could wring his short neck!)
Spotting my face, good 'ole Santa could see
I had no Christmas spirit you'd have to agree.

   He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And filled all the stockings, (I felt like a jerk).
Here was Santa, who'd brought us such gladness and joy:
When I'd been too busy for even one toy.

   He spied my research on the table all spread
"A genealogist!" He cried!  (My face was all red!)
"Tonight I've met many like you," Santa grinned,
As he pulled from his sack a large book he had penned.

   I gazed with amusement--the cover it read
Genealogy Lines for Which You Have Plead.
"I know what it's like as a genealogy bug."
He said as he gave me a great Santa hug.

   "While the elves make the sleigh full of toys I now carry,
I do some research in the North Pole Library!
A special treat I am thus able to bring,
To genealogy folk who can't find a thing."

   "Now off you go to your bed for a rest,
I'll clean up the house from this genealogy mess."
As I climbed up the stairs full of gladness and glee,
I looked back at Santa who'd brought much to me.

   While settling in bed, I heard Santa's clear whistle,
To his team, which then rose like the down of a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight,
"Family history is Fun!  Merry Christmas!  Goodnight!"

Author Unknown



Twas the Night Before Christmas

in the Kitchen

T' was the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen
I was cooking and baking and moanin' and bitchin'

I've been here for hours, I can't stop to rest.

This room's a disaster, just LOOK at this mess!

Tomorrow I've got thirty people to feed.

They expect all the trimmings.  Who CARES what I need?

My feet are both blistered;
I've got cramps in my legs,

And the cat's just knocked over my bowl full of eggs!

There's a knock on the door and the telephone's ringing;

frosting drips on the counter as the microwave's dinging!

Two pies in the oven, dessert's almost done

and my cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs.

I've had all I can stand. 
I can't take anymore.

Then in walks my husband spilling RUM on the floor!

He weaves and he wobbles,
his balance unsteady,

Then grins as he chuckles "the egg nog is ready!"

He looks all around
and then says with regret

"What's taking so long...arent you through in here yet?"

AS QUICK as a flash I reach for a knife!

He loses an earlobe... I WANTED HIS LIFE!

He flees from the room in terror and pain;

Now what was I doing and what is that smell?

Oh NO its the pies! They're burned all to hell!

I hate to admit when I make a mistake,

but I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE.

What else can go wrong? 
Is there still more ahead?  

If this is "good living," I'd rather be dead!

Lord, don't get me wrong,
I love the holidays;

It just leaves me exhausted, all shaky and dazed!

But I promise you one thing,
if I live 'til next year,

you won't find me pulling my hair out in here!

I'll hire a maid, a cook and a waiter;

And if THAT doesn't work...

Christmas better come LATER!

Author Unknown



'Twas the Night Before Christmas

0n the Internet


'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
  There were hacker's a surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet.
  The e-mails were stacked by the modem with care,
  In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
  The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
  While visions of Java danced in their dreams.
  My wife on the sofa and me with a snack,
  We just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac).
  When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
  I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.
  To a new page my Mac flew like a flash,
  Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!!
  I gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
  Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.
  When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
  My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.

  When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
  I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
  More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
  Then Nick glanced toward my screen, my Mac called them by name;
  "Now Compaq! Now Acer!", my speaker did reel;
  "On Apple! On Gateway!" Santa started to squeal!
  "Jump onto the circuits! And into the chip!
  Now speed it up! Speed it up! Make this thing hip!"
  The screen gave a flicker, he was into my "Ram",
  Then into my room rose a full hologram!
  He was dressed in all red, from his head to his shoes,
  Which were black (the white socks he really should lose).

  He pulled out some discs he had stored in his backpack.
  Santa looked like a dude who was rarin' to hack!
  His eyes, how they twinkled! His glasses, how techno!
  This ain't the same Santa that I used to know!
  With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
  Santa soon let me know I had nothing to dread.
  He spoke not a word, gave my Mac a quick poke,
  And accessed my C drive with only a stroke.
  He defragged my hard drive, and added a "Dimm",
  Then threw in some cool games, just on a whim!
  He worked without noise, his fingers they flew!
  He distorted some pictures with Kai's Power Goo!
  He updated Office, Excel and Quicken,
  Then added a screensaver with a red clucking chicken!
  My eyes widened a bit, my mouth stood agape,
  As he added the latest version of Netscape.
  The drive gave a whirl, as if it were pleased,
  St. Nick coyly smiled, the computer appeased.
  Then placing his finger on the bridge of his nose,
  Santa turned into nothing but ones and zeros!

  He flew back into my screen and through my uplink,
  Back into the net with barely a blink.
  But I heard his sweet voice as he flew from my sight,
  "Happy surfing to all, and to all a good byte!"

Author Unknown



'Twas the Night Before Christmas

for Laywers


Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur at a certain improved piece of real property (hereinafter "the House") a general lack of stirring by all creatures therein, including, but not limited to a mouse.

A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc., had been affixed by and
around the chimney in said House in the hope and/or belief that St. Nick a/k/a/
St. Nicholas a/k/a/ Santa Claus (hereinafter "Claus") would arrive at sometime thereafter.

The minor residents, i.e. the children, of the aforementioned House, were
located in their individual beds and were engaged in nocturnal hallucinations, i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery treats, including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear in said dreams.

Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes hereinafter referred to as  "I"), being the joint-owner in fee simple of the House with the parts of the  second part (hereinafter "Mamma"), and said Mamma had retired for a sustained period of sleep. (At such time, the parties were clad in various forms of headgear, e.g. kerchief and cap.)

Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there did occur upon the
unimproved real property adjacent and appurtent to said House, i.e. the lawn, a certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or circumstance. The party of the first part did immediately rush to a window in the House to investigate the cause of such disturbance.

At that time, the party of the first part did observe, with some degree of
wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter the "Vehicle") being pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately eight (8) reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle appeared to be and in fact was, the previously referenced Claus.

Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction and guidance to the
approximately eight (8) reindeer and specifically identified the animal
co-conspirators by name: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder and Blitzen (hereinafter the "Deer"). (Upon information and belief, it is further asserted that an additional co-conspirator named Rudolph may have been involved.)

The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle and the Deer
intentionally and willfully trespass upon the roofs of several residences
located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House, and noted that the Vehicle was heavily laden with packages, toys and other items of unknown origin or nature. Suddenly, without prior invitation or permission, either express or implied, the Vehicle arrived at the House, and Claus entered said House via the chimney.

Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially covered with residue from the chimney, and he carried a large sack containing a portion of the aforementioned packages, toys, and other unknown items. He was smoking what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant violation of local ordinances and health regulations.

Claus did not speak, but immediately began to fill the stocking of the minor
children, which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys and other small gifts.  (Said items did not, however, constitute "gifts" to said minor pursuant to the applicable provisions of the U.S. Tax Code.) Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of his nose and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of the House to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited and/or served as "lookouts." Claus immediately departed for an unknown destination.

However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said House, the party of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim: "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"  Or words to that effect.

Source: Dezert Rose


'Twas the Night Before Christmas



Twas the Race before Christmas and all through the track
Each driver was ready to make his attack.
The tires had been stacked by the pit crew with care

With hopes none of them would run out of air.
The drivers were belted all snug in their seats

Where visions of checkered flags looked mighty sweet.

When out of the infield there rose such a clatter
The crowd sprang to their feet to see what was the matter.
What sight met their wondering eyes as they rose
Twas Rusty Wallace punching somebody's nose.

With eyes like the eagles the spotters they came
And they turned on their headsets and called them by name
"On Spencer! On Petty! On Rudd and Jarrett! "On Cope! On Speed! On Ward and Jeff Burton! At the top of the curve ran 'em into the wall!

Now gentlemen, start your engines all!"

More rapid than lightning the Iceman they flew
With a sack full of cash and the Winston Cup too.
And then in a twinkling there came to the front
The bright rainbow colors of Gordon's DuPont.

Then Bobby Labonte flew by in a flash
While Martin had a breakdown and Spencer a crash.
Then all at once with a rush and a roar

There came a new car they had not seen before.

From bumper to bumper it was painted all red
North Pole Toy Co.was the sponsor they read.
With a little old driver so lively and quick
They all said at once, "Hey, this must be a trick!"

"A geezer like that shouldn't be driving here!"
"And why does his pit crew all have pointed ears?"
The next scheduled pit stop went kinda slow
For the old fellow stopped at each pit in the row.

He spent no time at all, but left gas and oil
A new set of tires, new tools for their toil.
He asked no endorsement, demanded no fee
And left only coal for the black #3.

Childress got on the com and said "Hey Intimidator ...
Want to chew him up now, or save him for later?"
Dale spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
He gave him a nudge, then broadsided the jerk.

But the old guy escaped with a zig and a zag
And crossed over the finish line, right at the flag.
The old man drove straight up to victory lane
Grabbed up the trophy and drank some champagne.

Thanked all his sponsors and took the cash too
Stole a kiss from Brooke Gordon, and then off he flew
As he sped out of sight, one last cry did they hear.
"Merry Christmas to all, better luck next year!"

Source: Big D and Bubba


'Twas the Night Before Christmas

at Microsoft


'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except Papa's mouse.
The computer was humming, the icons were hopping,
As Papa did last minute Internet shopping.

The stockings were hung by the modem with care
In hope that St. Nicholas would bring new software.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of computer games danced in their heads.

PageMaker for Billy, and Quicken for Dan,
And Carmen Sandiego for Pamela Ann.
The letters to Santa had been sent out by Mom,
To santaclaus@toyshop.northpole.com -

Which has now been re-routed to Washington State
Because Santa's workshop has been bought by Bill Gates.
All the elves and reindeer have had to skedaddle
To flashy new quarters in suburban Seattle .

After centuries of a life that was simple and spare,
St. Nicholas is suddenly a new billionaire,
With a shiny red Porsche in the place of his sleigh,
And a house on Lake Washington that's just down the way

From where Bill has his mansion. The old fellow preens
In black Gucci boots and red Calvin Klein jeans.
The elves have stock options and desks with a view,
Where they write computer code for Johnny and Sue.

No more dolls or toy soldiers or little toy drums (ahem - pardon me)
No more dolls or tin soldiers or little toy drums
Will be under the tree, only compact disk ROMS
With the Microsoft label. So spin up your drive,
From now on Christmas runs only on Win95.

More rapid than eagles the competitors came,
And Bill whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Now, ADOBE! Now, CLARIS! Now, INTUIT! too,
Now, APPLE! and NETSCAPE! you are all of you through,

It is Microsoft's SANTA that the kids can't resist,
It's the ultimate software with a traditional twist -
Recommended by no less than the jolly old elf,
And on the package, a picture of Santa himself.

Get 'em young, keep 'em long, is Microsoft's scheme,
And a merger with Santa is a marketer's dream.
To the top of the NASDAQ! to the top of the Dow!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away - wow!"

And Mama in her 'kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The whir and the hum of our satellite platter,

As it turned toward that new Christmas star in the sky,
The SANTALITE owned by the Microsoft guy.
As I sprang from my bed and was turning around,
My computer turned on with a Jingle-Bells sound.

And there on the screen was a smiling Bill Gates
Next to jolly old Santa, two arm-in-arm mates.
And I heard them exclaim in voice so bright,
Have a Microsoft Christmas, and to all a good night.

Author unknown


'Twas the Night Before Christmas

for Rednecks



'Twas the night before Christmas

Not a creature was stirrin'

'Cept a redneck named Taylor.

His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,

And a-runnin' down his chin

Was a trickle of spittle.

His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,

And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

From out in the yard

There came such a noise

That Bubba got scared

And rousted the boys.

There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;

Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7.

John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:

The twins were both girls

So they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls,

No need for a shirt,

Threw a hat on each head,

Then turned with a jerk.

They ran to the gun rack

That hung on the wall.

There were 17 shotguns;

They grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll!

The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw."

Maw was expecting

And needed her sleep,

So out they crept out the door

Without making a peep.

They all looked around, and then they all spit.

The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"

Bubba just stared;

He could not say a word.

This was just like all of

The stories he'd heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof,

Darn tootin'

But the boys didn't know;

They was about to start shootin'!

They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake

That would have resulted in venison steak.

Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!"

That's Santy Claus

And he's brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin'

And a-raisin' cain,

And Bubba whistled, and shouted,

And called them by name.

"Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!

Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"

"Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!

Quit shakin the trailer,

Or you'll make Santy fall!"

The dogs kept a-barkin'

And wouldn't shut up,

And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.

Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.

From up on the roof Santa heaved a great sigh.

Since the guns had been dropped

He just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh,

Told his reindeer to hurry.

The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.

Just as the reindeer Got into the air,

The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care.

He was busy lookin' At all his new toys.

Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:

"Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right.

That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.

They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.

And as for Bubba,

He liked Old St. Nick,

But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too.

And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!

Source: Urban Legends


'Twas the Night Before Christmas

for Programmers


'Twas the night before implementation and all through the house,

Not a program was working not even a browse.

The programmers hung by their tubes in despair,

with hopes that a miracle would soon be there.

The users were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of inquiries danced in their heads.

When out in the machine room there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear,

but a super programmer (with a six-pack of beer).

His resume glowed with experience so rare,

he turned out great code with a bit-pusher's flair.

More rapid than eagles, his programs they came,

and he cursed and muttered and called them by name:

On update! on add! on inquiry! on delete!

On batch jobs! on closing! on functions complete!

His eyes were glazed-over, fingers nimble and lean,

from weekends and nights in front of a screen.

A wink of his eye, and a twitch of his head,

soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

turning specs into code; then turned with a jerk;

And laying his finger upon the "ENTER" key,

the systems came up and worked perfectly.

The updates updated; the deletes, they deleted;

the inquiries inquired, and closings completed.

He tested each whistle, and tested each bell,

with nary an abend, and all had gone well.

The system was finished, the tests were concluded.

The users' last changes were even included.

And the user exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,

"It's just what I asked for, but not what I want!"

Author Unknown



'Twas the Night Before Christmas

in the Military


Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give
And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, so dark and dreary,
I knew I had found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

I heard stories about them, I had to see more
So I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping silent alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.

His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon understood this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night
Owed their lives to these men who were willing to fight.

Soon 'round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of soldiers like this one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my Corps."

With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours, so silent and still,
I noticed he shivered from the cold night's chill.

So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
And I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.
And I put on his T-shirt of gray and black,
With an eagle and an Army patch embroidered on back.

And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
And for a shining moment, I was United States Army deep inside.
I didn't want to leave him on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice so clean and pure,
"Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night!

Author Unknown


happy new year

Barbara Beck-Ramsay, February 17, 2006