Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night B4 Christmas,
and across this great land
all the moms and the dads
had their heads in the sand

They shook their big asses.
They twisted and wiggled,
and with doe eyes wide open
the kids whispered and giggled.

What was it that happened
to the country that year
that caused the adults
to quiver in fear?

Abroad, wars were raging
and changing each day.
At home in the streets
cops got carried away.

So Mom in her nightie
and Dad in her lap
simply settled right in
for a long winter’s nap.

But they couldn’t sleep well.
Their dreams were absurd.
They paced late at night
without saying a word.

The kids in their beds
heard those old floorboards creaking.
One said to the other,
“Must be Santa Claus sneaking

around in our house
to give us good stuff”
even though they both knew
they had more than enough:

iPods and iPads,
a big house to be living in,
gadgets and gizmos,
enough to be swimming in.

Still the bright kiddos squealed,
“Santa Claus must be here!”
They dashed out of their bedroom
full of mirth & good cheer.

A jolly old elf
is what they expected,
someone blissful and free,
someone whom they respected.

They thought they’d find Santa,
these two cheerful childs.
What they saw were their parents
wearing tire tread smiles

and standing in darkness,
neither looking quite right.
“Merry Christmas,” Mom sighed,
“but it’s late…so…goodnight.”

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