TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

Glens stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Coyler soon would be there;

The Glenmen were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of 'Champions' danced in their heads;

With Big Chris in rosette, and Sas in his cap,

It was time they woke up from this 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, God I needed that slash.

The moon on the breast of the now yellow snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a marshmallow face, with two marshmallow ears

I called to the Glenmen, 'hurry come quick',

I thought for a moment it must be St. Nick.

But instead of eight reindeers, and Santa, alas,

It was four drunken bluedogs and Festers fat ass.

"Not DASHER! not, DANCER! not PRANCER and VIXEN!

Or, COMET! or CUPID! or, DONDER or BLITZEN!

But Mr Ed, Sumo, Bailie and thus!"

Thought they'd won the league early and got the wrong bus!

But soon they would find, and much to their dismay,

That Gibbo stays home when it comes Boxing Day,

So it's back to the swamp, laughed the Glenmen with glee,

With a bus full of buckfast ....... no trophies you see.

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. Coyler came in with a bound.

He was dressed in our colours, from head to his foot,

Though his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

But bundle of Trophies he'd stuffed in his sack,

Have faith in the glens he said, we will be back.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

He must have been on the red wine or the sherry!

His droll little mouth then drew up like a bow,

'One swallow does not make a summer you know';

Don't worry bout Fester, the one with the belly,

That shakes, when he laughs like a bowlful of jelly

He's chubby and plump, and a right jolly old elf,

But he'll never have ...... what I have myself!

With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

He gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

There are four months to go, before all becomes clear

It is only just turning the start of New Year

He uttered no more, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying one finger aside of his nose,

With a nod, and a wink, 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, as he drove out of sight,

"THE SEASON'S NOT OVER, EVEN THOUGH WE'VE BEEN *****!"

HAPPY NEW YEAR :-)