From: bobk@gibdo.engr.washington.edu (Bob)
Subject: Bob's Christmas Collection: Part 1 
Organization: University of Washington
Date: Wed, 23 Dec 1992 01:45:50 GMT

                      TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

  'Twas the night before Christmas
    And all through the house,
  Things were real mellow...
    Even Irving, the Mouse.
  
  Our boots were hung up,
    The incense was lit,
  In hope that St. Nick
    Would soon do his bit.
  
  The tree was decked out;
    It was really a sight,
  With love beads and flowers
    And a flashing strobe light.
  
  Wearing my T-shirt
    From Woodstock Nation,
  I was getting into some good meditation.
  
  And my chick was doing some yoga in bed,
    munching a fruit cake,
  While propped on her head.
  
  Then...pow!!...in the night...
    ...a hullabaloo!
  It shook the waterbed
    And woke up old Blue.
  
  I stumbled around
    And tripped on my beard.
  It stuck to my toes
    And felt really wierd.
  
  When I got to the window,
    I was really uptight,
  'cause the scene I perceived
    Was a mind blowing sight!
  
  What through my shades
    Did I see through the snow,
  But eight tiny mooses
    And a wild U.F.O.!
  
  With this hip dude inside,
    Looking kinky and groovy...
  I flashed..."If this ain't Nick
    It must be the late movie."
  
  They blew in from the cosmos
    Like some far-out caboose
  And this fat cat kept yelling
    At each midget moose:
  
  "Right on, Dasher! On, Dancer!
    GET IT ON...DO YOUR THING.
  Get your bods in high gear, now,
    And move this machine!"
  
  Then onto the roof
    They flew with a shout,
  The whole Cosmic Crew
    Really freaked me out!
  
  They caused such a hassle
    And made such a fuss,
  I thought someone would call
    The fuzz down on us.
  
  But before I could say, "COOL IT!...
    HOLD DOWN THAT LOUD JIVE,"
  Nick zapped toward the chimney
    And leaped in with a dive!
  
  As he trucked from the fireplace,
    His smile all agleam,
  I thought, "ITS UNREAL!
    It must be a dream!"
  
  Then he nodded and said,
    "This isn't a bummer...
  Like, I've come in peace,
    To groove my Yule Number."
  
  His duds were all fur,
    Trimmed in leather and such
  And he came on stone funky...
    ...he was really too much.
  
  His back pack was painted
    With black light festoon,
  Full of albums and posters
    And a neon balloon.
  
  His eyes, a light show!
    His beard, da-glo bright!
  A plastic, fantastic,
    Kaleidoscope sight!
  
  He looked like a guru,
    This beautiful cat...
  ...I thought, like, wow!
    ...This dude knows where its at!
  
  "Don't want to sound heavy,"
    He said with a grin,
  "My message is simple
    So dig it, tune in."
  
  "I brought you some goodies,
    But that's not the thing.
  My real trip is bringing
    Good vibes to this scene."
  
  So we rapped until dawn
    About Peace, Love and Truth,
  Then he said, "Gotta split, now,
    Or I'll be late in Duluth."
  
  He wiggled his nose and said,
    "I did my bit"
  And straight up the smoke hole
    This fat cat did split!
  
  As he sped from the roof
    And into the air,
  He shouted, "Let's get it together,
    All you people down there!"
  
  "Merry Christmas To All
    And to all a Good Night!"
  And then in a flash,
    He streaked outta sight!
  ==
  
  YUPPIE CHRISTMAS...
  
  'Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru' the condo,
  Not a creature was stirring whose car had known Bondo.
  
  The Gucci's were hung by the chimney with care
  In hopes that the neighbors would notice them there.
  
  The dependents were nestled, all snug in their beds
  While Porsches and charge accounts danced in their heads
  
  And my dove and I, watching T.V. cable stations
  Had just settled down to three weeks paid vacation.
  
  When out in the drive there arose such a clamor
  My wife lost her place in a story in Glamour.
  
  To the window I had the man run, like a flash
  To make sure it was garbage men taking the trash.
  
  But he said, "It's a lawyer, sir, parking his car.
  I fear it's a Jetta, and in THIS front yard!
  
  Shall I sound the alarm?"  "Yes, don't let him inside!
  My ex must want more alimony," I cried.
  
  But though servants locked windows and barred the front door,
  Our defense was as loose as a two-dollar whore.
  
  For just as back in the Jacuzzi I stepped,
  A soot-suited man from the fireplace lept.
  
  "I flew down the flue," he informed, and I sighed.
  "That sure puts a damper on things," I replied
  
  He was dressed in a suit, with three pieces and tie,
  But I saw he'd forgotten to zip up his fly.
  
  He had a long nose that resembled a dork,
  And his beady eyes begged to be poked with a fork.
  
  With only these words, "You poor Ivy-leagued jerk!
  This isn't your day!" he went straight to his work.
  
  Beneath the aluminum tree he did crouch,
  And took all of our presents to put in his pouch.
  
  The TV's and stereos, jewelry and clothes,
  All went into his Hefty, and then he arose.
  
  He crossed the fireplace, turning his back...
  And emptied our stockings out into the sack.
  
  But just as I thought that was all I would lose,
  He went to the kitchen and drank all my booze.
  
  Then he dumped all our silverware into the bag,
  And added the new VCR to his swag.
  
  Our Waterford crystal, our Tiffany lamps,
  My son's Telecaster and thousand-watt amps,
  
  My Princeton diploma was yanked off the wall
  And twenty sports jackets from out in the hall.
  
  My antique collection, the wife's diamond rings,
  He ransacked the house and took all of our things!
  
  But when he had stacked all the bags by the door,
  Well, I brought our my Doberman and said "Listen you boor!
  
  You've invaded our privacy - I know the law!
  KILL, Charger, KILL!"  But the lawyer guffawed,
  
  And laying a finger aside of his nose
  Gave a honk, and blew snot - all over my clothes.
  
  He grabbed a dry breadstick and took my dog's life,
  Then ran to the bedroom and ravished my wife!
  
  Now, I really was peeved! "Sir, I'll see you in court!
  You can't do such things to collect non-support!"
  
  But he laughed, "Non-support?" as he got off my spouse.
  "Tomorrow they're coming to take down your house.
  
  And soon the policemen will drag you away.
  Your own Uncle Sam's repossessing today!"
  
  "You mean you aren't my ex-wife's attorney?"
  I asked, while he loaded my gold Lamborghini.
  
  He laughed as he dashed away into the night,
  And tossed a grenade which blew out my porch light.
  
  But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
  "Damn, your wife was awfully tight.
  ==
  
  T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
  The computers were whirring; They never do stop.
  The power was on and the temperature right,
  In hopes that the input would feed back that night.
  The system was ready, the program was coded,
  And memory drums had been carefully loaded.
  While adding a holiday-like glow to the scene,
  The lights on the counsole flashed blue, white, and green.
  When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
  The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
  Away to the hallway, he flew like a flash,
  Forgetting his key in a curious dash.
  He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
  When the door slammed behind him and he was locked out.
  Then in the computer room, what should appear,
  But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
  And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
  Chuckled, 'My name is Santa... The last name is Claus'.
  The computer was startled, confused by the name,
  Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow explain:
  'This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen
  And Comet and Cupid and Donner And Blitzen.'
  With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew,
  It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.
  It searched in its memory core, trying to 'think',
  Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
  Unable to do its electronic job,
  It said in a voice that was almost a sob:
  'Your eyes how they twinkle, your dimples so merry,
  Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
  Your smile, all these things I've been programmed to know,
  And at data-recall I am more than so-so;
  But your name and your address, (computers can't lie)
  Are things that I just cannot identify.
  You've a jolly round face and a little round belly,
  That shakes when you laugh like a bowl full of jelly..
  My scanners can see you but still I insist,
  Since you're not in my program you cannot exist.'
  Old Santa just chuckled a merry 'Ho-ho',
  And sat down to type out a quick word or so.
  The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
  As Santa entered this data into the machine:
  'Kids everywhere know me, I come every year;
  The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer;
  But you won't get anything, that's plain to see;
  Too bad your programmers forgot about me.'
  Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
  'Happy holidays to all.', as he pulled out it's plug.
  ==
  
  'Twas the night before Christmas, and God it was neat.
  The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
  The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook,
  It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
   
  Momma in her teddy, and I in the nude,
  Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
  When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
  That I lost my boner and momma went dry.
   
  Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
  Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
  The moon on the crest of the snowman we'd built,
  Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
   
  When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
  But a rusty old sleigh and eight mangy reindeer.
  With a fat little driver, half out of his sled,
  A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
   
  Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite
  And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
  Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz,
  Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts.
   
  Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
  Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee.
  They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
  Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
   
  And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
  As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
  I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,
  When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
   
  His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
  He looked like a bum and smelled like a whore.
  "That was some brothel," he said with a smile,
  "The reindeer are pooped, and I'll just stay awhile."
   
  He walked to the kitchen, for himself poured a drink,
  Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
  I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
  The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
   
  Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
  But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
  The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
  The next was a handgun with a penis that spits.
   
  A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find,
  And a six pair of panties, the edible kind.
  A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
  And several other things that I shouldn't even mention.
   
  A fuck ring, a G-string, and all types of oil,
  And a dildo so long that it lay in a coil.
  "This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
  So I'll leave 'em here, then I'll just split."
   
  He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
  With one tiny butt plug tucked under his sleeve.
  He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
  Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
   
  In time he was seated, took the reigns of his hitch,
  Saying, "Take me home, Rudolph, the night's been a bitch!"
  The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
  "The best thing about pussy is that you can never wear it out!"
  ==
  
  'Twas an hour before closing and all through the bar
  Everyone was waiting and watching afar
  To sit there and wait, night after night
  Just to see the strings leave without a fight.
  
  With the bartender ready to close out the drawer
  Everyone was stirring and it was really a bore
  Those strings tried every night without fail
  To get service in this bar, but to no avail.
  
  When all of a sudden there was such a breeze
  As the front door blew open and the three strings wheezed
  "Now listen! Do you hear! You're serving us tonight!"
  "And we're not leaving this time, until it's done right!"
  
  The bartender looked shocked but shouted right back
  "You get out of here now!  We won't serve you!  Now scat!"
  The strings didn't budge, and they continued to wheeze
  Then slammed the front door to block off the breeze.
  
  "Now look here bartender," said string number one.
  "We're just out looking for some innocent fun."
  "We just want a drink, no matter how small."
  "Then we'll be off to our yearly 'frayed knot ball."
  
  The bartender stopped and thought for a while
  Thinking how could he be just so terribly vile
  As to not let three strings have just one drink each
  And his eyes softened and his cheeks turned peach.
  
  "Come up to the bar, strings," he said somewhat wily.
  And the strings started to approach all looking smiley.
  They thought, at last, we're going to be served!
  This night in history, they said, must be preserved!
  
  One barstool, two barstools, three and four!
  So many to choose from - who could ask for more!
  They all grabbed a stool near the bartenders spot
  And he grabbed down three glasses to give them a shot.
  
  He grabbed a fine bottle of whiskey from the wall
  All nice and aged, and the bottle was quite tall.
  The strings, all excited, at their first bar drink
  started wondering what all their friends would think!
  
  They looked at the bartender and started to say
  Thank you, kind sir, for serving us today.
  But just as they were about to speak,
  the bartender turned and said, "Naw, maybe next week".
  ==
  
  'Twas the night before Christmas y por toda la casa,
    Not a creature was stirring.  Caramba!  Que pasa?
  Los ninos were all tucked away en sus camas,
    Some in long underwear, some en pijamas.
  While in her cocina, mama trabajaba,
    At the corner cantina el viejo estaba
  Living it up with su amigos.  Carracho!
    Bastante contento y algo barracho,
  The stockings were hung con mucho cuidado,
    In hopes that old Santa se sentiria obligado
  To bring all the children, los buenos y malos,
    A nice batch of dulces y otros regalos.
  
  Outside in the yard there arose such ruido,
    That I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito.
  I ran to the window y mire afuera
    And who in the world, piensas tu, que el era?
  St. Nick in a sleigh, y en vez de renitos,
    Aproaching volandos were ocho burritos,
  I watched as they came, and this quaint hombrecito
    Was whistling and calling por nombre con gritos:
  "Ay Pancho!  Ay Pepe!  Ay Cuca!  Ay Beto!
    Ay Chato!  Ay Chopo!  Ay Maruca!  Ay Nieto!"
  
  Then standing erect with his hand on su pecho
    He flew to the top of mi propio techo.
  With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea
    He struggled to squeeze down our old chimenea.
  Then huffing and puffing y por fin en la sala,
    With soot smeared all over his red traje de gala,
  He filled all the stockings con bonitos regalos
    For none of the ninos had been muy malos.
  Then chuckling aloud, y muy contento,
    He turned like a flash y se fue like viento.
  And I heard him exclaim--y esto es verdad--
    "Merry Christmas to all y Feliz Navidad!"
  ==
  
  'Twas the night before start-up and all through the net,
    not a packet was moving; no bit nor octet.
  The engineers rattled their cards with despair,
    hoping a bad chip would blow with a flair.
  The salesman were nestled all snug in their beds,
    while visions of data nets danced in their heads.
  And I with my datascope tracings and dumps
    prepared for some pretty bad bruises and lumps.
  When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
    I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
  
  There stood at the threshold with PC in tow,
    An ARPANET hacker, all ready to go.
  I could see from the creases that covered his brow,
    he'd conquer the crisis confronting him now.
  More rapid that eagles, he checked each alarm
    and scrutinized each for its potential harm.
  
  On LAPB, on OSI, on X.25!
    TCP, SNA, V.35!
  
  His eyes were afire with the strength of his gaze;
    no bug could hide long; not for hours or days.
  A wink of his eye and a twitch of his head,
   soon gave me to know I had little to dread.
  He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
    fixing a net that had gone plumb berserk;
  And laying a finger on one suspect line,
    he entered a patch and the net came up fine!
  
  The packets flowed neatly and protocols matched;
    The hosts interfaced and shift-registers latched.
  He tested the system from Gateway to PAD;
    not one bit was dropped; no checksum was bad.
  At last he was finished and wearily sighed
    and turned to explain why the system had died.
  I twisted my fingers and counted to ten;
    an off-by-one index had done it again...
  ==
  
  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 soon would 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 Closings! 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 system 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 a bomb, 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!"
  ==
  
  It was the night before Christmas 
    and all through Tec Square,
  Not a computer was stirring,
     even MC had a high "fair share".
  The tapes were hung on the machine with care,
    With hopes that DUMPER would find them there.
   When all at once to my surprise,
     My TTY bell rang, and opened my eyes.
  I looked on the screen to see,
    Who it was sending to me.
   The header was missing and all that it said,
     Was "[Here is THE GUY IN RED]".
  I quickly ran :FINGER just to see,
    Who was on the machine besides me.
   It was then I noticed a job named BATCH,
     That was stuffing my DDT's PATCH/.
  To see what this was all about,
    I thought I might :PEEK before I logout.
   But while I was typing away,
     I looked up to see the screen re-display.
  All that was left after a bell and flash of light
    Was [BATCH at MIT-M(erry)C(hristmas): Happy Hackin to all...]
                                       --GRUPP 83
  ==
  
  The Epic of Santa Claus
  
  Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
  There were bottles and butts left around by some louse.
  And the best fifth I'd hidden by the chimney with care,
  had been snatched by some bum who'd found it right there.
  My pals, guy's and gal's, had been poured in their beds,
  to wake in the morning with hung over heads.
  My mouth, full of cotton, dropped down with a snap,
  because I was dying for just one more nightcap.
  When through the south window there came such a yell,
  that I sprang to my feet to see just what the hell...
  And what to my bloodshot eyes should I see,
  but eight drunken reindeer caught up in a tree.
  Way in 'mongst the branches was a man with a sleigh,
  and I saw it was Santa quite oiled a gay.
  Staggering nearer, those eight reindeer came,
  as he belched and he hiccoughed and he called them by name:
  "On Whiskey! On Vodka! We ain't got all night.
  You too, Gin and Brandy, now do it up right!
  Clamber on up t'the roof, get the hell of this wall,
  get going you rummies, we've still a long haul!"
  So up on to the roof went the reindeer and sleigh,
  But a tree branch hit Santa before he could sway,
  And then to my ears like the roll of a barrel,
  came a helluva noise that was no Christmas carol.
  As I pulled in my head and I cocked a sharp ear,
  down the chimney he plunged landing smack on his rear.
  He was dressed all in red with white fur for the trim,
  and the way that he swayed said he was tanked to the brim.
  The sack on his back held nothing but booze,
  and the breath that he blew nearly put me to snooze.
  He was both plump and chubby and though he tried to stand right,
  he couldn't fool me - he was high as a kite!
  He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
  and missed half the stockings, that plastered old jerk.
  Then putting his thumb to the end of his nose,
  he fluttered his fingers as he quoted his prose.
  A spring for his sleigh at so hasty a pace,
  that he tripped on a shingle and slid down on his face.
  But I heard him exclaim as he passed out of sight,
  "Merry Christmas you lushes, now really get tight!"
  ==
  
  'Twas the night of the party
  And all through the town
  No cops were a stirrin'
  No *pigs* were around.
  
  The joints were all rolled
  And piled in stacks...
  In hopes that by midnight
  We'd be blown to the max!
  
  We drank Seagram Sevens
  And smoked Panama Reds,
  While visions of munchies
  Danced in our heads.
  
  Then all of a sudden
  Came a knock at the door,
  We all yelled "PIGS!"
  And dove to the floor.
  
  Yet what to our red glazed
  Eyes should appear,
  But a pound of Columbian
  And TWO kegs of beer.
  
  The man at the door
  Just gave us a smile,
  So we invited him in
  To party awhile.
  
  He sat in the corner
  And started to roll
  So we filled up his glass
  And lit up a bowl.
  
  We then heard him say,
  (As he flew to the sky)
  "Merryjuana to all...
  And to all, a good high!"
  ==
  
  T'was the night before dooms day
  and all through the house, everyone
  felt shitty, even the mouse.
  Mom at the whore house and Dad
  smoking grass, I had just settled
  down for a nice piece of ass.
  When out on the lawn I heard
  such a clatter, I speang from my
  piece to see what was the matter.
  Then out on the lawn I saw
  a big dick, I knew in a moment it
  must be St. Prick.
  He came down the chiminey like
  a bat out of hell, I knew right
  away the fucker had fell.
  He filled all the stockings with pretzels
  and beer and a big rubber dildo
  for my brother the queer.
  He rose up the chiminey with a
  thunderous fart, the son-of-a-bitch
  blew the chiminey apart.
  He swore and he cursed as he rode
  out of sight, "Piss on you all and
  have one hell of a night!!!"
  ==
  
  A slightly different version:
  
  Twas the night before Christmas,
    And all through the house,
  The whole damn family
    was drunk as a louse.
  
  With Mom in the whore house
    and Dad in jail,
  I settled down for a cold glass of ale.
  
  When all of a sudden
    I heard such a clatter.
  I jumped off my sister
    to see what was the matter.
  
  And what to my watering eyes should appear,
    A rusty old sleigh and eight fuckin' reindeer!
  
  Then from the fireplace I heard such a yell,
    I knew that instant, the fat fucker fell.
  
  With a face that looked like he was gonna be sick,
    He hiccoughed and burped, then slurred he was St. Nick.
  
  He filled the stockings with pretzels and beer,
    And a rubber dick for my brother who's queer.
  
  Then he shouted "Up to the roofs and over the walls,
    onward you bastards or off with your balls!"
  
  Then with a yell, he shouted with all of his might,
    "Fuck you all, it's been a hell of a night."
  ==
  
  another similar one:
  
  Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
  everyone was stoned, even the mouse.
  Gramma and Grampa were smoking a bong,
  while Jr. was upstairs flog'n his dong.
  Dad was in the whorehouse, mom was in jail,
  and I was just settled down for a nice piece of tail.
  Way out on the lawn I heard such a clatter,
  I left my hot pussy to see what was the matter.
  I ran to my window and threw up my hash,
  tripped over a broomstick and fell on my ass.
  Then to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
  but a rusty old sleigh, and eight horny reindeer.
  A little old was aboard, holding his dick,
  I knew in an instant it must be St. Nick.
  I heard him exclaim as he rose to the walls,
  "Go faster you bastards or I'll cut off your balls!"
  He flew down the chimney like a bat out of hell,
  but I knew in an instant that the dumbfuck fell.
  He filled the stockings with joints and beer,
  and a king-sized dildo for the family queer.
  I heard him cry out as he flew out of sight,
  "Fuck you all it's been one hell of a night!"
  ==
  
  Sid Vicious Says 'Merry Christmas'
  
  'Twas the night before New Years, when everyone's drunk
  Not a rocker was stirring, not even a punk;
  
  The Baggies were hung by the phono with care,
  In hopes that Saint Vicious, yes Sid, would be there.
  
  There Ramones were sold out, so we stayed in our sheds,
  While visions of slammers still danced in our heads.
  
  Suzie with hash pipe and I, dressed in black,
  Had just setteled down for a long-playing track.
  
  When out in the alley there arose such a clatter,
  I crawled from the couch to see what was thhe matter.
  
  Away to the window I lurched with a crash,
  Tearing a poster I'd had from the Clash.
  
  The strobe light, the acid, the new snorted snow,
  Gave a lustre of Day-Glo to the objects below.
  
  When what to my unfocused eyes should appear,
  But a miniature stage, and a band I could hear.
  
  With a singer who danced; by the Pogo he did
  I knew in an instant it must be Saint Sid.
  
  More rapid than Springsteen, their rythm it came.
  And he snarled, and shouted, and called them by name:
  
  "Now Strummer! Biafra! Now Joey Ramone!
  on Bators! On Patti! On Cook and on Jones!
  
  To the top of the amps, kick over the wall!!!
  Now ANARCHY, ANARCHY, ANARCHY ALL!!"
  
  As punks that before a concert got high,
  When they all started to Pogo, mount to the sky.
  
  So up to the window, the rockers they flew,
  With powerful speakers, and Saint Vicious too.
  
  And then in a twinkling I heard on the trunk,
  The swearing and cursing of each famous punk.
  
  As I drew on my pipe and was turning around,
  Down the vent shaft, Saint Vicious, he came with a bound.
  
  He was dressed in black from his head to his foot,
  And a chain ran from his shoulder that was tarnished with soot,
  
  A black leather jacket was flung over his back,
  And he looked like a heretic freed from the rack.
  
  His eyes, how they flashed, his smile, how merry!
  He staggered right in, his breath smelled of sherry,
  
  His darkly blue hair was drawn up in a spike,
  and the rest of the punks were attired alike.
  
  A portable mike he held tight in his hand,
  "Holiday in the Sun" issued forth from the band.
  
  To be followed by "Anarchy in the U.K."
  "God Save the Queen," "EMI," and "My Way."
  
  The band played so loud the albums fell from my shelf,
  and I gasped when I saw him in spite of myself.
  
  A wink from his eye, and some dope for my head,
  soon game me to know I should Pogo instead.
  
  He spoke but a word, and that was "ANARCHY"
  And gave us all tickets and hash for the day!
  
  Then putting white powder inside of his nose,
  And spitting it out, he said: "Fuck all discos!"
  
  He sprang to his stage to the band gave a shout
  And away they all jammed till Saint Vicious passed out.
  
  But I heard him exclaim, with the last of his might,
  
  "SCORCHING PUNK ROCK TO ALL, AND TOO AWFUL GOOD NIGHT!!!" 
  ==
  
  Christmas In Brooklyn
  by Rob Bartlett
  
  'Twas the night before Christmas, an all through the block,
  Not a creature was stirring, not even Ed Koch.
  The stockings were hung, by the furnace with care.
  In hopes that by morning, they'd all still be there.
  
  Me an this skank, were just getting ready for bed.
  I wore pajamas, she had a paper bag for her head.
  When up on the roof, I heard a big crash,
  I thought it was a burglar, I was gonna kick ass!
  
  I went out on the fire escape, looked up in the sky,
  An what did I see, but this freakin fat guy!
  With a red suit and boots, that came up to his knees,
  In the moonlight he looked, just like Dom DeLouise.
  
  He had a big sled, being pulled by reindeer.
  He called one of them Dancer, so I assumed he was queer.
  As he crept off the roof, it became clear to me,
  That this guy was lookin, to steal my TV!
  
  Over his shoulder, he had a big sack.
  He came down the stairs, while I planned my attack.
  I waited a second, till the time it seemed ripe.
  Bopped him on the head, * botta bing * with a pipe!
  
  He fell to the floor, with a groan and a thud.
  I was kinda surprised, that I didn't see blood.
  Instead he rolled over, looked me in the eye.
  When I saw who I'd hit, I near started to cry.
  
  I said "hey 'yo Santa, I'm sorry all right?"
  "Not for nuttin" he said, "but this just ain't my night!"
  "I got lost in the Bronx, ran over some Nuns."
  "Had a near miss by Kennedy, Rudolf's got the runs..."
  
  "I'm out all freakin night, I'm bustin my hump."
  "But I can't finish now, not with this lump!"
  "So do me a favor, and be a real pal."
  "Take over for me...be Santa Sal."
  
  I say 'Yo! I'm from Brooklyn, I ain't right for the part.
  But he says that Santa Claus, comes from the heart.
  He made me a offer, I could'nt refuse.
  Stop at every house....except for the Jews!
  
  I got into the suit, jumped onto the sleigh,
  Wondering just why it was, reindeer smelled that way.
  Took off on my mission, didn't want to be late.
  While old Nick spent the night, hosin' my date.
  
  That night I was Santa, bringing kids joy and bliss.
  And if you don't believe that...hey, jingle dis!
  Since then I been with him, each year in the cold.
  Riding shotgun with Santa, 'cause he's fat, and he's old.
  
  I'm his number one helper, I been deputized.
  So on this Christmas Eve, don't you be surprised.
  If you hear a voice say, real loud and abrupt.
  "Merry Christmas to all, thanks alot...shutup!"
  ==
  
  The Worm Before Christmas
  
  Twas the night before finals, and all through the lab
  Not a student was sleeping, not even McNabb.
  Their projects were finished, completed with care
  In hopes that the grades would be easy (and fair).
  
  The students were wired with caffeine in their veins
  While visions of quals nearly drove them insane.
  With piles of books and a brand new highlighter,
  I had just settled down for another all nighter ---
  
  When out from our gateways arose such a clatter,
  I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter;
  Away to the console I flew like a flash,
  And logged in as root to fend off a crash.
  
  The windows displayed on my brand new Sun-3,
  Gave oodles of info --- some in 3-D.
  When, what to my burning red eyes should appear
  But dozens of "nobody" jobs.  Oh dear!
  
  With a blitzkrieg invasion, so virulent and firm,
  I knew in a moment, it was Morris's Worm!
  More rapid than eagles his processes came,
  And they forked and exec'ed and they copied by name:
  
  "Now Dasher!  Now Dancer!  Now, Prancer and Vixen!
  On Comet!  On Cupid!  On Donner and Blitzen!
  To the sites in .rhosts and host.equiv
  Now, dash away!  dash away!  dash away all!"
  
  And then in a twinkling, I heard on the phone,
  The complaints of the users.  (Thought I was alone!)
  "The load is too high!"  "I can't read my files!"
  "I can't send my mail over miles and miles!"
  
  I unplugged the net, and was turning around,
  When the worm-ridden system went down with a bound.
  I fretted.  I frittered.  I sweated.  I wept.
  Then finally I core dumped the worm in /tmp.
  
  It was smart and pervasive, a right jolly old stealth,
  And I laughed, when I saw it, in spite of myself.
  A look at the dump of that invasive thread
  Soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread.
  
  The next day was slow with no network connections,
  For we wanted no more of those pesky infections.
  But in spite of the news and the noise and the clatter,
  Soon all became normal, as if naught were the matter.
  
  Then later that month while all were away,
  A virus came calling and then went away.
  The system then told us, when we logged in one night:
  "Happy Christmas to all!  (You guys aren't so bright.)"
  
  [ Note:  The machines dasher.cs.uiuc.edu,
    dancer.cs.uiuc.edu, prancer.cs.uiuc.edu, etc. have
    been renamed deer1, deer2, deer3, etc. so as not
    to confuse the already burdened students who use
    those machines. We regret that this poem reflects
    the older naming scheme and hope it does not confuse
    the network adminstrator at your site.  -Ed.]
  ==
  
  Twas the night before Christmas
  When all through the dwelling
  The adults were unconscious, 
  The brats had stopped yelling
  The stockings were hung with a "je ne sais quoi"
  In hopes we'd get presents (especially moi).
  
  The kids had exhausted themselves
  with their play
  Had totaled the house
  and were through for the day
  And my lady and I, having earned our repose
  Were contentedly snoring (or so I suppose)
  
  When soon from the living room, 
  somebody gurgled
  And I quaked with alarm
  for I thought we'd been burgled
  And armed with a baseball bat
  heart filled with terror
  I crept to the scene and discovered my error
  
  For this was no burglar
  I'd entered to watch
  It was only Saint Nicholas
  drinking my scotch
  "Help yourself, Father Christmas"
  and "Welcome!" I cried.
  "So I have, and 'tis good stuff," he replied
  His eyes; how they twinkled
  His nose; how it glowed!
  His teeth were enormous
  and all of them showed
  He carried no bundle
  a briefcase was all;
  The stockings hung empty, forlorn on the wall
  
  And where were the reindeer?
  Had all of them died?
  There was only a limousine
  waiting outside.
  I reproached him: "Kris Kringle,
  you've grown very lax!"
  "I don't know any Kringle; I've come for your tax!"
          
  "A new law," he exclaimed
  with a comical dance,
  "Say's you've got to pay next April's
  sum in advance."
  "But this," I exclaimed
  "is the worst of all gyps!"
  And he chuckled and winked
  and rejoined, "Read my lips!"
  
  "Then you've come," I inquired,
  "from the dread IRS?"
  "In a word," answered he
  with a pirouette, "yes."
  And ere felled by my bat,
  he appended (quite loud)
  "And Christmas and New Year's are now disallowed."
  ==
  
  By Yoggi Yorgesson
  
  Oh, I yust go nuts at Christmas,
  On that yolly holiday.
  I go in the red like a knucklehead,
  'Cause I squander all my pay.
  
  Oh, I yust go nuts at Christmas.
  Shopping sure drives my berzerk!
  On the day before, I rush in the store
  Like a really stupid yerk!
  
  I look at nightgowns for my vife.
  That black one trimmed in red.
  But i don't know her size and so
  She'll get a carpet sveeper instead!
  
  Oh, I yust go nust at CHristmas,
  Ven each kid hangs up his sock.
  It's the time for kids to flip their lids
  Vile their papa goes in hock!
  
  
  On the night before Christmas, it's still in the house.
  My whole family is sleeping, so I'm qviet like a mouse.
  I look at my vatch and midnight is near.
  I tink I'll sneak out for a cold glass 'o beer!
  Down at the corner, the crowd is so merry,
  I end up by drinking about tvelve Tom 'n' Yerry!
  I got to bed late and (gee viz) how I'm sleeping,
  When, onto the bed, dose darn kids dey come leaping.
  Dey sit on my face and they jump on my belly,
  And I chivering all over like a bowl full 'o yelly!
  Dey scream 'Merry Christmas!'  My poor vife and me,
  Ve stumble downstairs and she lights up the tree.
  My head is exploding!  My mouth tastes like a pickle!
  I step on a skate and fall on a tricycle!
  Yust before Christmas dinner, I relax, to a point.
  Den relative start svarming all over the yoint!
  On Christmas, I hug and I kiss my vife's mother,
  The rest of the year, we don't speak to each other.
  After dinner, my aunt and my vife's uncle Louie
  Get into an arguement;  dey're BOTH awful screwy.
  Den all my vife's family say Louie is right,
  And my goofy relations DEY yoin in the fight!
  Back in the corner, the radio's playing,
  And, over the racket, Gabrial Hader is saying,
  'Peace on Earth, everybody, and goodwill toward men,'
  And yust at dat moment, someone slugs Uncle Ben.
  They all run out side vooping so the neighbors could hear...
  Oh, I'm so glad Merry Christmas come yust once a year!!
  
  Oh, I yust go nuts at Christmas,
  But I still have lots of fun!
          Just the same as you,
          I enyoy it too.
  MERRY CHRISTMAS, EV-RY-ONE!!
  ==
  
  Tweeze Denied Beef Worker Isthmus
  
  Tweeze denied beef worker isthmus, winnow Trudy how's,
      Snot agreed juries during, gnaw Tiffany moss.
  This talking swear unbided Gemini wit cairn
      Hint opus scenic (alas!) sinewy dare.
  
  Unjelled runner nozzle tools smuggling deer butts
      Well fissions unshoe kerplunks thence endear huts.
  Anemometer cur chiffon dyeing mayhap,
      Adjust subtle warp reins fairy loin winger snap.
  
  Winnow taunted launderer roast sachet glitter
      Ice brine bromide bet deucey woodwinds schemata.
  Await Tudor widower blue lacking flesh,
      Door roping tier shatters untrue hump these ash.
  
  Demonian depressed often knew felines know
      Gaffe cholesterol metier due abjects elope.
  Wane wood tummy wandering ice shittah pear,
      Vital men etchers lay mandate tidy Rainier.
  
  Whittle it whole dolt river salival equipt,
      Sinewy mom aunt isthmus bee-stain nicked.
  Mere rabbit-torn evils whose gorses became
      Any weaseled end shuttered, uncool tomboy maim.
  
  "Node azure! No Dunce era! No France urine fixing!
      Uncommit! And cubit! Andante ran vexing!
  Toady tipoff deport chew detypify well!
      Gnaw dish aweigh, dish aweigh, dish aweigh awl!"
  
  Asked relieves dot beef forty whiled hurry queen fry,
      Wind emit wooden apse stickle, mountie-desk eye,
  Sew-up two-deep how stop duck horsers dubloon,
      Witty slave fallow toils, ascend nickel loss due.
  
  Ant tending at weakling - why hurt honor roof?
      A brain sinning Boeing effete shiney huff.
  Aside ruin mayhap untwist darning neuron
      Bounding gym knee-scent knick (alas!) game winning pound.
  
  Iwis tressed woolen furze promise etuis food,
      Anus closed whorled varnished wood asses in suits.
  Abound olived oils (egad!) flunk honor speck,
      Any luck lockup addler chest (hope?) nimbus peck.
  
  Assai Saudi twin calloused temples amore!
      Exchequer lachryosis, whizz snows locket jury.
  Estrual litter mouse wash thrown applique beau,
      Amdahl biered honest Genesis weight hostess know.
  
  Distempered ape pie pea yelled tiding is steed,
      Undies mocha answer cul de sac lackey reed.
  Egad! Abroad fastener litter hound bully
      Achoo! quaintly left, lacking bull feeling jolly.
  
  Iwis champion blimp -- arrayed chilly wool delve,
      Any left whinney sow hymn, enspied off Moselle.
  An oink office sigh unto whist office hood
      Swoon gamey tonneau ahead knitting two tread.
  
  Ease poke naught award, Beduoin strayed duets orc,
      Infield eldest tuggings; interned witty chert,
  End lioness fanger a sight office gnus,
      Ant gibbon unknot, upon chimpanzee rows.
  
  Hasp Rangoon is lay, due esteem guava wistful,
      Ending weight day elf loo, lacking town ova tassle;
  Buddy herding explain air hedge rowboat design,
      "Hopping rich musty woolen due awl incondite!"
  ==
  
  .    '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 possesors of this potential, including that species of
  domestic rodent known as `Mus musculus'.
  
  .    Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the
  woodburning caloric apparatus. Pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure
  regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among
  whose folkloric appelations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.
  
  .    The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective
  accomodations of repose, were experiencing visual hallucinations of
  variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums.
  
  .    Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this
  fenestration, noting thereupon that 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 chauffer so ebullient and nimble that it
  became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller.
  
  .    With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may have been more
  vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators,
  
  .    He vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted
  labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respecteive cognomen:
  
  "Now Dasher ! Now Dancer ! ... ", et al.
  
  .    Guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through wich
  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 in
  the process or performing a one hundred and eighty degree pivot, our
  distinguished visitant acheived with utmost celerity a downward leapentry
  by way of the smoke passage.
  
  .    Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smokingpiece whose grey
  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 mirthiful, his corpulent abdominal region
  undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical
  container.
  
  .    Without utterance, and with dispatch, he commenced filling the
  aforementioned hoisery with various of the aforementioned articals of
  merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally
  transported cloth receptacle.
  
  .    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 cheifly among the seed-bearing portions of
  a common weed.
  
  .    But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediatly 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
  gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn.'
  ==
  
  A Final Visit From Saint Nicholas
  
  'Twas the night before Christmas and one thing was clear--
  that old Yuletide spirit no longer was here
  inflation was rising; the crime rate was tripling;
  the fuel bills were up, and our mortgage was crippling;
  
  I opened a beer as I watched TV,
  where Donny sang "O Holy Night" to Marie;
  the kids were in bed, getting sleep like they should;
  or else they were stoned, which was almost as good.
  
  While Ma with her ball-point was making a fuss
  'bout folks we'd send cards to who'd sent none to us;
  "those ingrates," she thundered, and pounded her fist;
  "Next year you can bet they'll be crossed off our list!"
  
  When out in the yard came a deafening blare;
  'twas our burglar alarm, and I hollered, "Who's there?"
  I turned on the searchlight, which lit up the night,
  and, armed with my handgun, beheld a strange sight.
  
  Some red-suited clown with a white beard immense
  was caught in our eight foot electrified fence;
  he called out, "I'm Santa!  I bring you no malice!"
  Said I, "if you're Santa, I'm Telly Savalas!"
  
  But, lo, as his presence grew clear to me,
  I saw in the glare that it just might be he!
  I called off our Doberman clawing his sleigh
  and, frisking him twice, said, "I think he's ok."
  
  I led him inside where he slumped in a chair,
  and he poured out the following tale of despair;
  "On Christmas eves past I was jolly and chuckling,
  but now 'neath the pressures, I fear I am buckling."
  
  "You'll note I've arrived with no reindeer this year,
  and without them, my sleigh is much harder to steer;
  although I would like to continue to use them,
  the wildlife officials believe I abuse them."
  
  "To add to my problem, Ralph Nader dropped by
  and told me my sleigh was unsafe in the sky;
  I now must wear seat belts, despite my objections,
  and bring in the sleigh twice a year for inspections."
  
  "Last April my workers came forth with demands,
  and I soon had a general strike on my hands;
  I couldn't afford to pay unionized elves,
  so the missus and I did the work ourselves."
  
  "And then, later on, came additional trouble--
  an avalanche left my fine workshop in rubble;
  my Allstate insurance was worthless, because
  they had shrewdly slipped in a 'no avalanche' clause."
  
  "And after that came an I.R.S. audit;
  the government claimed I was out to defraud it;
  they finally nailed me for 65 grand,
  which I paid through the sale of my house and my land."
  
  "And yet I persist, though it gives me a scare
  flying blind through the blanket of smog in the air;
  not to mention the hunters who fill me with dread,
  taking shots at my sleigh as I pass overhead."
  
  "My torn-up red suit, and these bruises and swellings,
  I got fighting muggers in multiple dwellings.
  And if you should ask  why I'm glowing tonight,
  it's from flying too close to a nuclear site."
  
  He rose from his chair and he heaved a great sigh,
  and I couldn't help notice a tear in his eye;
  "I've tried," he declared, "to reverse each defeat,
  but I fear that today I've become obsolete."
  
  He slumped out the door and returned to his sleigh,
  and these last words he spoke as he went on his way;
  "no longer can I do the job that's required;
  if anyone asks, just say, 'Santa's retired!'".
  ==
  
  'Twas the Night before Christmas -- The Very Last One
  
  'Twas the night before Christmas -- the very last one --
  When the blazing of lasers destroyed all our fun.
  
  Just as Santa had started taking off in his sleigh,
  A satellite spotted him making his way.
  
  The Star Wars Defense System -- Reagan's desire
  Was ready for action, and started to fire!
  
  The laser beams criss-crossed and lit up the sky
  Like a fireworks show on the Fourth of July.
  
  I'd just finished wrapping the last of the toys
  When out of my chimney there came a great noise.
  
  I looked to the fireplace, hoping to see
  St. Nick bringing presents for missus and me.
  
  But what I saw next was disturbing and shocking:
  A flaming red jacket setting fire to my stocking!
  
  Charred reindeer remains and a melted sleigh-bell;
  Outside burning toys like confetti they fell.
  
  So now you know, children, why Christmas is gone:
  The Star Wars computer had got something wrong.
  
  Only programmed for battle, it hadn't a heart;
  'Twas hardly a chance it would work from the start.
  
  It couldn't be tested, and no one could tell,
  If the crazy contraption would work very well.
  
  So after a trillion or two had been spent
  The system thought Santa a Red missile sent.
  
  So kids dry your tears now, and get off to bed,
  There won't be a Christmas -- since Santa is dead.
  ==
  
  A VISIT FROM SAINT NICHOLAS
  by Clement Clarke Moore
  
  'Twas the night before Christmas and 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 our brains for a long winter's nap
  
  When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
  I sprang out of my 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 a luster of midday 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 rapids than eagles his coursers they came
  And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name
  
  "Now Dasher, now Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
  On Comet! on Cupid! on Donder and Blitzen!
  
  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 housetop 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 hoog
  
  As I drew in my head, and was turning around
  Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
  
  He was dressed all in furs 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 on 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 bowl full 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 from 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!"
  ==
  
  Merry Christmas to all,
  Bob                                     Seattle, Washington

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