copyright Pam Ingalls and Michael Monteleone 2002, used with permission
'Twas the night before Yulescene, and all through the pad
Not a hipster was stirring, it was really quite trad.
The foot sleeves were pinned by the smokestack like jewels
In hopes that the fat man would come on real cool.
The kitties were sacked out all over the digs
While visions of sugarplums danced in their wigs.
My baby in her scarf and me in my hat
Had shut tight our peepers to get down where it's at.
When out on the sod came a noise real mean
I jumped from the silks to get a fix on the scene.
I hopped to the portal and flipped the storm door
I pushed the glass out and dug it some more.
The cold lunar scene was so bright on the snow
It was lit up like lunch time, Jack, what do you know!
Are my peepers on the blink, had I one too many beers?
I dug a wild wooden boat and eight midget reindeers.
The cat at the reins was so right with the lick
I dug in an instant it was Swingin' St.Nick .
The Antlers came on like lighting with a swag
Nick whistled and yelled and called each by their tag.
“Hey, Dasher, Hey Dancer! Say, Prancer and Vixen!
Go, Comet, go Cupid, Dig Donder and Blitzen!
Swing it up to the roof top and out into space
Now you is jumpin' straight ahead, it's a race!”
His bag was crammed with a really cool stash
Man, dug I, the cat must be heavy with cash!
Then, wham! on the roof the Antlers did land
They was tappin’ like crazy to their own jumpin' band.
As I drew my wig in and turned on a dime
There was Swingin' St. Nick looking ever so fine.
He'd slipped down the smokestack while my peepers were tight
This wild crimson cat with a look of delight.
His sniffer was cherry, his hair was fresh snow
His eyes were shimmering martinis aglow.
This cat was so round and he had such a chuckle
He jiggled all the way from his stompers to his buckle.
He made with no words but got down to his riffs
And under the tree he laid lots of cool gifts.
Then to the foot sleeves which he filled real hip
Next up the smokestack he went with a flip.
He swung into his short and to the Antlers he called
“You cats take me skyward, we is having a ball!!”
He was gone in a down beat, not even time for a cough
Man, was that one swingin’ mother of a take off!!
As he swung away deeply into the night
I heard him sing sweetly “Everything’s real tight!”
“To all of you swingers both below and above .
A jumpin’ Yuletide to you - Straight to the Road of Love!!!"
Pam Ingalls can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org
Michael Monteleone can be reached at: email@example.com