The Doe Run Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, Santa thought and he groaned

The night before Christmas, “I wish I was stoned.”

He had gotten quite tipsy, to the Mrs. dismay,

At the elves Christmas party held early that day.

Now my kitties were nestled all snug in their beds,

As visions of mousies danced round in their heads.

And I in my snow boots and orange hunter’s cap,

Was busy a’ mixing a Christmas nightcap.

When out by Doe Run there arose such a clatter,

I sat down my drink to see what’s the matter.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,

Gave the luster of midday to the objects below.

When what to my bleary eyes did appear?

But stranded old sleigh and nary a deer.

The tipsy old driver was still very quick,

And I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

“Where’s Dasher? Where’s Dancer?

Where’s Prancer?  Where’s Vixen?

And Comet and Cupid and Donder and Blitzen?”

He ran to the barn, as he looked rather stricken,

Then he came running out with every last chicken.

He harnessed them up, then I heard Santa cry,

For Santa did realize that chickens can’t fly.

I called to dear Santa, who looked less than merry,

But his cheeks they were rosy, his nose like a cherry.

I gave him a beer as he walked thought the door,

It was then that he spied a cat on the floor.

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

“The cats will save Christmas, I will make it so.”
 

He grabbed up our darling, our sweet Clementine,

”Yes this one will do, she will do just fine.”

 
Then Miss Kitty Carlisle, he grabbed her up too,

Yes Miss Kitty Carlisle will just have to do.

The cats Halloweener, both Treat and then Trick,

Had tried very hard to hide from St. Nick.

But Santa, he found them and when they were ready,

He grabbed up the last one, our grey cat named Teddy.

You know Mr. Claus; you’re a really smart guy,

But much like the chickens, well cats they don’t fly.

“Well, listen Lucinda, I don’t want to bore ye,

But you made this up so, let’s stick to the story.”

He lit up his pipe that he held in his teeth,

And the smoke encircled his head like a wreath.

He climbed in the sleigh with his big round belly,

That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.

He went straight to work and had nothing to say,

Except that my cats would be back Christmas Day.

The cats sprung to work as he let out a whistle,

And away they all flew like a rocket or missile,

And I heard him exclaim, as he shot though the blue,

Merry Christmas to All, Happy Hanukkah, too.