- December 24th, 2006, 9:58 pm
#49755
...with many appologies to Clement Moore
Twas the night before Christmas, the night running long
not a creature was stirring, not even SuperJon.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Purple Haize soon would be there.
The members were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of Flame Fans danced in their heads.
And I, all alone, in the middle of winter
had just settled down, for the late night SportsCenter.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my recliner to see what was the matter.
Away to the window (Whoa I got up way too fast),
tore open the shutter, and threw up the beef hash.
The moon on the breast (can you say “moon” and “breast” on here) of the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of midday to objects below,
when, what in the heck is parked next to my van,
was a miniature sleigh and eight tiny Flame Fans.
With a big old driver (no I’m not in a daze),
I knew in a moment it must be Purple Haize.
More rapid than WUeagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now LUconn! Now bigsmooth!
Now, Medic and ATrain!
On, AG! On, Sly Fox!
On SCAR and El Scorcho!
To the top of the thread!
To the top of the wall!
Now post away! Post away!
Post away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with haters, who’s posts mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of goodies, and Purple Haize too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Purple Haize came with a bound.
He was dressed like a zebra, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of drug samples 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 great big 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 was in a good mood,
and filled all the stockings, then ate all the food.
And laying his finger inside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to 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 Flame Fans to all, and to all a good night!"
Twas the night before Christmas, the night running long
not a creature was stirring, not even SuperJon.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Purple Haize soon would be there.
The members were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of Flame Fans danced in their heads.
And I, all alone, in the middle of winter
had just settled down, for the late night SportsCenter.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my recliner to see what was the matter.
Away to the window (Whoa I got up way too fast),
tore open the shutter, and threw up the beef hash.
The moon on the breast (can you say “moon” and “breast” on here) of the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of midday to objects below,
when, what in the heck is parked next to my van,
was a miniature sleigh and eight tiny Flame Fans.
With a big old driver (no I’m not in a daze),
I knew in a moment it must be Purple Haize.
More rapid than WUeagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now LUconn! Now bigsmooth!
Now, Medic and ATrain!
On, AG! On, Sly Fox!
On SCAR and El Scorcho!
To the top of the thread!
To the top of the wall!
Now post away! Post away!
Post away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with haters, who’s posts mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of goodies, and Purple Haize too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Purple Haize came with a bound.
He was dressed like a zebra, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of drug samples 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 great big 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 was in a good mood,
and filled all the stockings, then ate all the food.
And laying his finger inside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to 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 Flame Fans to all, and to all a good night!"
- By Chippy