With apologies (again) to Clement Clarke Moore
Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the ‘hood
Nothing was stirring, or nobody could;
Stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In the hope that x- toys soon would be there;
And the naughty were nestled all snug in their beds
Engaged in activities best left unsaid;
When outside my playroom there arose such a clatter
I arose from my slumber to see
what was the matter;
When what to my wandering eye should appear
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer;
Twas St. Nick himself, shouting out names
All chosen from Twitter – to play reindeer games
Now, Renee! Now Smexy! Now Holly and Rover!
On, Alice! On Casey! On, Maria Popover!
On his back was a sack of gifts made to measure
Games played by lovers for maximum pleasure;
And I heard him exclaim, while stuffing stockings with glee
It’s nice to be naughty, or is it just me?
And he roared as the reindeer soared out of sight –
Happy Christmas to all , and to all a good night.”