'Twas the night...

[Ahh!]

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the pad Not a hep cat was swingin' and that's nowhere, Dad.
The stove was hung up in that stocking routine. Like maybe the fat man would soon make the scene.
The kids that fell by had just made the street. I was ready for snoresville. Man, was I beat.
When there started a rumble that came on real frantic. So I opened the window to figure the panic.
I saw a slick rod that was makin' fat tracks. Souped up by eight ponies all wearin' hat racks!
They were out of the shoot, making time like a bat. And they rounded the corner in 8 seconds flat.
And a funny old geezer was flippin' his lid. He told 'em to make it, and man, like they did.
They were out of the chute makin' time like a bat Turnin' the quarter in eight seconds flat!
They parked by the smokestack in bunches and clusters 'til Chubby slid down comin' on like gangbusters.
His threads were from cubesville and I had to chuckle, In front, not in back, was his Ivy League buckle.
The mop on his chin hid a button down collar. And with that red nose, dad, he looked like a baller.
Like, he was the squarest-the most absolute. But lets face it, huh? Who cares when he left all that loot?
He laid the jazz on and peeled from the gig Wailin' "Have a cool Yule, man, and later, like, dig?"

[Dobick]