12/25/2021
Twas The Night Before X-Mas
As created and read by Clemson Crow To the Crow Family X-Mas eve '09
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the farm,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a my sons third arm; The paper bags were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Ides soon would be there; The children were inbread all snug in their beds,
While cross eyed visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And ma in her muumuu, and I in my cap, Had just settled down for a long winter's crap, When out in the backwoods there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the jon to see what was the matter. Away with my shot gun I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and hid my stash ,When, what to my blood shot eyes should appear, But a miniature honeywagon, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a drunken old driver, so belligerent and sick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than horseflies his crew they came,
And he farted, and burped, and called them by name;
"Now, Hasher! now, Pole Dancer! now, Lung Cancer and Fat Son!
On, Guy! on Bub! on, Downer and BLATZen!
To the top of the hog barn! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! blast away! frig off all!"
So then, i blew a smoke ring, and heard on the roof,
The tapping and rapping of each little hoof.
With one to the head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas dropped with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur,like a pimp on Front Street,
With Phat Pharm on his hoodie and alligator on his feet;
With a bundle of greenery he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his sack.
His eyes -- how they glazed! his gold fronts were cherry!
His cologne like a french man, his upper lip hairy!
His pouch of Crown was drawn up like a bow,
And i'm pretty sure his breath smelled of Old Crow;
The glass pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a familiar face and a little pot belly,
I'm not sure what was in his pocket it was the good kind of smelly.
He was tipsy and buzzed, drank mostly top shelf
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A twist of a paper and a shake of his head,
A Christmas Rasta Pimp with green and red dreads;
He spoke not a word, but did the electric slide,
And filled all the stockings with candy and black pride,
With one white glove and a moon walk or two,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he flew;
He sprang to his hooptie, to his crew gave a holla,
And away they all flew like the pop of a collar. But I heard him pronounce, as he rocked Grey Light,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a green-night."
Seasons greatings from Clemson
