‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a corpse was breathing, not even their spouse;
Nylon stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that the cops would not find them there;
The live victims were all nestled, snug in their restraints;
While visions of mayhem snuffed out their complaints;
My ol’ man in his bandana, and I in my cap
Had just settled in for a quick nightly nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew with a dash,
Tore open the curtains and hid the drug stash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a luster of midday to a figure below.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a swirling lit cruiser pulling eight plastic reindeer,
With a rickety old driver so slow and not quick,
I knew in a moment he’d never catch Nick.
He slogged through the snow, toward our doorway he came,
And he whistled and shouted and called us strange names:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As leaves that blew before the storm hit,
When he met with an obstacle, our pit bull named Kit;
So up to the housetop the cop climbed the lattice,
With no warrant or recourse, as if he had gratis,
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing like he was dancing in hoofs.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the cop came with a thundering bound.
He was dressed all in blue, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all singed with ashes and soot;
A bundle of pot brownies he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a junkie just opening his sack.
His eyes–how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a berry!
His droll little mouth snarled up with a grin,
And the squint to one eye like he’d drank all our gin;
The stump of a cigar he held tight in buck teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and not much of a belly
That barely moved when he laughed, like a jar with no jelly.
He was cheerful with glee, a right jolly old cop,
And I laughed when I saw him; he looked like Nick’s pop;
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 went straight to his work,
And stole all the nylons, then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, into the fire he dove.
I sprang forward to save him, then stopped, reconsidered,
How much would they pay for a cop’s body, delivered?
But I heard Nick exclaim, ere he drove out the lot,
“You’ll get us both busted and rightfully caught.”
“Quiet,” I told him, but one moment too late.
For he’d vanished; so much for that date.
Back in bed I climbed, the mattress now ample,
And sprinkled the pillows with the remaining drug sample.
When I drew my last breath before my eyelids did flutter,
I mumbled, “Merry Christmas to all. May your nights make you shudder.”
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