I amended a Christmas classic...I'm probably going to hell:
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house cruise
ship
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. (I hope not, I paid good money for this and "no mice" was included).
The stockings were hung by the chimney out the porthole with
care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there (or anyone really, as long as they have gifts. And cake).
The children (I think at 40, that’s
pushing it a bit) were nestled all snug in their beds berths (and a bit hot because it’s not exactly
snowing out on the Ocean in Mexico),
While visions of sugar-plums (and
cake) danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap (please tell me they had something else on),
Had just settled our brains (settled your brains? Inside or
outside of your head? T’was the night
before Zombie Christmas?) for a long winter’s nap (for goodness sake, you’re not bears).
When out on the lawn ocean there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed berth to see what was the matter (not really, when things get dodgy, I get
under the bed berth).
Away to the window porthole I flew like a flash (if by flash, you mean I rolled out of bed
and crawled over with a short nap along the way, then yes),
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash (not your regular porthole, clearly).
The moon on the breast (breast - hee hee)
of the new-fallen snow/ocean
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer (clearly still drunk from earlier).
With a little old driver, so lively and quick (he’s little and old, I think quick is hardly the word),
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles (feel
strongly this is stretching it) his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen! (I think we're all ignoring the elephant
reindeer in the room. Where is
Rudolph? Suspect Prancer has something
to do with it)
To the top of the porch poop deck! To the top of the wall
ship!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all broken hip!"
(Well, I needed it to rhyme)
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly (I think that’s a different cruise.
I didn’t sign up for that),
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house cruise ship top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys (and
cake), and St Nicholas too (who was
full of cake and making it really quite tiring for the reindeer).
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof deck
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof neck (necks typically don’t make as much of a
sound as hooves but they do in this poem and quite frankly, who knows what kind
of sound a neck makes when it hits a deck.
Probably a bit crunchy. And
painful. And not a good way to land).
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney smoke stack St Nicholas came with a
bound.
He was dressed all in fur (and looking a bit sweaty because again, not cold
or snowy), from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot (So, I said don’t come any closer because you’re
making a mess on the rug).
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back (and it was pretty obvious there wasn’t enough for everyone which was
making things a little awkward),
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! (I wish I had dimples)
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! (Reminds me of the time I informed my mother
that I had a lovely “peaches and cream” complexion and she corrected me with a “No,
you’re just ruddy.”)
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow (because he was freakin’ old).
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, (maybe something to consider giving up for the New Year?)
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath (and made everyone cough and he was asked to leave and go to the smoking section).
He had a broad face and a little round belly (well, who doesn’t?),
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly! (Mmm, jelly.)
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, (hang on, Santa was an elf? I
think this is news to everyone)
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. (Not true, he looked a little shifty dodgy to
me)
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose, (not up it)
And giving a nod, up the chimney smoke stack he rose!
(And it was very hot and burned him badly)
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, (none of them responded initially so he had
to do it again and yell at them)
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. (Thistles are prickly, this seems like a bad example)
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
I don't know where I'm going to put my new car - do you think they'll let me drive it around the poop deck*? I'm going to eat one of everything.
I hope my gifts have arrived. I'm sorry I ate the good parts. If you got a dictionary from me, it's because of your Facebook posts. You're welcome.
*Is too a real deck.
