Archived at: http://www.alchemistmatt.com/twas/
Contains 849 versions of the classic poem, including headers from most of the posts and credits when available. The versions range from innocent and cute to vulgar and obscene, so read at your own discretion. I have collected most of these versions by searching the newsgroups using Google Groups and the now retired Deja News. I'd be happy to receive any additional versions you might have.
See the Main Index for the complete contents.
************************************************************Short Title: Florida1 Subject: Santa in Florida From: VIXENKITTY@aol.com (VIXENKITTY) Date: 1997/12/10 Message-ID: <96464250.348e0bc1@aol.com> Newsgroups: muc.lists.frua-dev Santa In Florida Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town No noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down, No children in flannels were tucked into bed, They all wore shorty pajamas instead. To find wreaths of holly was not very hard For holly wreaths grew in every yard. In front of the houses were Daddies and Moms Adorning the crotons and coconut palms. The slumbering kiddies were dreaming with glee That they would find waterskis under the tree. They all knew that Santa was well on his way In a red Thunderbird instead of a sleigh. He whizzed up the highway and zoomed up the roads In a snappy convertible peddling his loads. As he jumped from the car he gave a deep chuckle He was dressed in Bermudas with an ivy league buckle. There weren't any chimneys, but that caused no gloom For Santa came in through the Florida room. He stopped at each house, stayed only a minute As he emptied his bag of the toys that were in it. Before he departed he treated himself To a glass of Papaya juice left on the shelf; Leaped into the car and put it in gear And drove over bridges, singing with cheer. But we heard him exclaim as he went on his way "Merry Christmas, sunny Florida, Wish I could stay !" ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Florida2
from http://www.spring-tree.com/christmas.html
Twas A Florida Christmas
T'was the night before Christmas and all through the town,
no noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down,
No children in flannels were tucked into bed,
They all wore shorty pajamas instead.
To find wreaths of holly, t'was not very hard,
For holly trees grew in every back yard.
In front of the houses, Dads and Moms were
Adorning the bushes and coconut palms.
The sleeping kiddies were dreaming in glee,
Hoping to find water skis under the tree.
They all knew that Santa was well on his way,
In a Mercedes-Benz, instead of a sleigh.
And soon he arrived and started to work,
e hadn't a second to linger or shirk.
He whizzed up the highways and zoomed up the road,
In a S-L 300, delivering his loads.
And lighted the way for old Santa below.
As he jumped from the auto he gave a wee chuckle,
He was dressed in Bermudas with an Ivy league buckle,
There weren't any chimneys, but that caused no gloom,
Or Santa came in through the Florida room.
He stopped at each House....stayed only a minute,
Emptying his sack of stuff that was in it.
Before he departed, he treated himself,
To a glass of papaya juice upon the shelf.
He turned with a jerk and bounced to the car,
He shifted the gears and stepped on the gas
And up Highway 436 he went like a flash.
And I heard him exclaim as he went on his way,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS Y'ALL, I WISH I COULD STAY!"
Email: Written by Gill
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Short Title: Florida3
from http://www.spring-tree.com/christmas.html
'Twas a Florida Christmas
(Version 1)
By Glenn Danforth
Copyright 1996 - Glenn Danforth - All Rights Reserved
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Brevard,
The natives were swimming or mowing the yard;
The charcoal was piled by the hibachi with care,
In hopes that half keg soon would be there;
The children were nestled in our Jacuzzi,
As the vodka began to make me feel woozy;
And mamma in her bikini, and I in my thong,
Realized a diet could do us no wrong;
When on the front lawn there arose such a clatter,
I crawled off the hammock to see what was the matter;
Our friends had arrived, dressed for the pool party,
Arms filled with gifts, and a case of Bacardi;
The moon on the breasts of my wife's best friend Ann,
Made me thankful for my pool, and that I'm a man;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a mini van packed with tourists so queer;
With a little old driver, so obnoxious and mad,
I knew in a moment his directions were bad;
More rapid than eagles his curses they came,
And he spit, and shouted, and called me weird names;
"You Dasher! You Dancer! You Prancer! You Vixen!
You Comet! You Cupid! You Donder and Blitzen!"
Directions I offered, before he got hotter,
"Head east," I informed him, "and ignore the water."
As the van-full of tourists drove off to their death,
Uncle Bill filled the air with his putrid breath;
"Gather 'round children," he said with such glee,
"The real Santy Claus ain't got nothin' on me";
And then, in a twinkling, he climbed on the roof,
Drunk once again, and acting the goof;
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney he came with barely a sound;
He stood semi-naked from his head to his foot,
Wearing only his stockings and ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;
His eyes, they were crossed, his gait was unsteady,
He smelled of cheap whisky, his nose like a cherry!
The children were ushered outside with much speed,
As we filled him with coffee, so much did he need;
We knew it was Christmas, 'twas the same scene each year,
Uncle Bill would get faced, and fall on his rear;
He had a small head and a humungous belly,
That shook when he laughed like an ocean of jelly;
The weight of a rhino, the height of an elf,
I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know we had something to dread;
He fell off the sofa and went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then called me a jerk;
I grabbed for his car keys, and called him a cab,
He tried to nail me, but missed with his jab;
The taxi came quick, it seemed like a week,
And away Billy drove, barely able to speak;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas Brevard! Hey, can I drink on this flight?"
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Short Title: Florida4
from http://www.spring-tree.com/christmas.html
'Twas a Florida Christmas
(Version 2)
By Glenn Danforth
Copyright 1997 - Glenn Danforth - All Rights Reserved
(This version of 'Twas a Florida Christmas was written for my
homemade 1997 Christmas cards. It was my way of letting my friends and
relatives know in a humorous way what was new in my life. Most of them
didn't know I was married only 5 weeks earlier and that I would soon
be a father again. This was my way of breaking the news of the many
shocking changes, including the biggest one of all: we had become
vegetarians. (That news was particularly crushing to my Uncle Al who
could no longer buy me the traditional Danforth Christmas gift; a
membership in the Weenie of the Month Club.) All though it was written
for a specific audience I decided to post it here. I hope you enjoy it.)
'Twas Florida Christmas, in the Danforth house,
I wrapped my bride's present: maternity blouse.
The wheat buns were piled by the gas grill with care,
In hope meatless burgers soon would be there.
Mosquitoes were nestled, all snug in their trees,
With encephalitis, a horrid disease.
Kelly in my T-shirt and I in my sweats,
Were cursing Drew Bledsoe, and our stupid bets.
When out on the porch there arose such a clatter,
It scared me so much I grew even madder.
Kel's girlfriends arrived for a baby shower,
The Patriots fumbled, my mood it was sour.
The dew on the leaves of our Christmas palm tree,
Was it caused by the heat, or humidity?
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
Salvation Army Santa, reeking of beer.
"I'm here for the shower," he said with a slur,
He gave us frankincense, some gold and some myrrh,
"I followed the bright light, so where is the child?"
I shrugged both my shoulders, as he became riled.
Just as the Dolphins were breaking their huddle,
I realized the light had been the Space Shuttle.
"Our child is no savior," I said to Saint Nick,
"But, thanks for the gold, now leave here real quick."
He trekked through the woods in search of a manger,
Ignoring the signs that warned him of danger.
He yelled out so loud, "I will be back later,"
And promptly became a snack for a gator.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The gnawing of termites, I acted aloof.
In walked my pal Jane, she is quite the looker,
My new wife distrusts her, because she's a hooker,
All dressed in fur, from her head to her toes,
Unaware of the heat, or animal's woes.
I heard the girls squeal and was turning around,
Bledsoe was charged with an intentional ground.
A bundle of gifts Jane pulled off her shoulder,
Breast pumps and Pampers; a snap to the holder.
A huge pooper scooper, to clean rover's slime,
The kick missed by a mile, we'd have overtime.
The women all gorged on rich Christmas sweets,
I wished I could dive, head first in the treats.
Diet was shrinking my once rotund belly,
Unlike the gut of my pregnant wife Kelly.
But she will be skinny again come next May,
While I'll pass for Santa way past Christmas day.
But that was just fine, I muttered to myself,
Better tall Santa, than a bulimic elf.
I counted on Yule time, when wishes came true,
A new car was riding on Patriot Drew.
My chances were better to wear the Dutch crown,
A fact that was proven--a Dolphin touchdown!
We drowned all our sorrows, in a big fruit cake,
We said bye to our car--my body by Jake.
To make us feel better, we screamed to the night,
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Short Title: Florida5
From: NanaBabe (skb632@aol.comdontdoit)
Subject: Twas the Night Before, Florida Style
Newsgroups: alt.fan.jimmy-buffett
Date: 2002-12-16 16:49:50 PST
The Night Before Christmas
(Tampa Bay Style)
by
J. Palmer King
with apologies to
Clement C. Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas,
when all 'cross the Bay
Even gators awaited
the sound of a sleigh;
The A/C's were on,
all thermostats set low,
In hopes that St. Nicholas
wouldn't miss the snow;
The children used blankets,
first time on their beds,
While dreams of orange groves
danced in their heads;
And Mamma in her two-piece,
and I in my trunks,
Walked out to the sauna
for a Christmas Eve dunk;
When out on the beach
there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the pool
to see what was the matter.
Off to the gazebo,
my towel in hand,
Gazed out t'ward the Gulf
'Cross the Sun Coast sand.
The sea reflecting
a watery glass moon,
Gave the lustre of midday
to grassy sand dunes,
When, what did I see, loyal
Buccaneer fans?
But a sixteen foot hobie
and eight large Pelicans,
With a little old skipper,
a Captain with cause,
I knew in a moment
it was Santa Claus.
More rapid than a gull
his seabirds they came,
And he yelled and he shouted,
and called them such names;
Now, we had to censor
all of this little verse,
'Cause, let's face it, folks,
How a sailor can curse!
"To the north panhandle!
To the southern most Keys!
Now sail away! Sail away!
Sail with the breeze!"
As wave crest that before
the noon thunderstorm fly,
When they meet with the sea wall,
mount to the sky;
So up to the boat house
the scoop bills they flew,
With the boat full of toys,
and Cap Nicholas too.
Then, after a ruffle
and feathered wing beat,
Was the strutting and scratching
of tiny webbed feet.
So I ran to the house
and was looking around,
When through the lanai St. Nick
fell with a bound;
He was dressed in cut-offs,
and red flowered shirt,
And his flip-flops were covered
with sand and dirt;
A bundle of toys
he had flung on his back,
He was pale as a snowbird
just beginning to unpack.
We all know old Santa
in his Christmas glory,
So we'll skip the description,
get on with the story.
With a wink of his eye
as he secured the bow,
Soon gave me to know
I would never know how;
He spoke not a word,
but went straight to his work,
And filled all the crab traps;
then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger
aside of his nose,
And giving a nod,
out the window he dove;
He sprang to his boat,
to his crew shouted "Aye!",
And away they all sailed
'cross warm winter sky;
But I heard him exclaim
just before morning sun,
"Be back after New Year
for winter vacation!"
~ NanaBabe ~
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Short Title: Flu From: Gwen Love (cglghl@knology.net) Subject: OTP The Night Before Xmas - Flu Version Newsgroups: alt.support.arthritis Date: 2002-12-24 15:04:28 PST *Twas the night before Christmas - Flu Version* Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house Every creature was sneezing Including the mouse! Twas the night before Christmas but what could we do? The family had been struck down by the flu! The children were nestled all snug in their beds. While Tylenol and Sudefed cleared up their heads. And me with my hot tea and he with a snack Had settled in front of a big unwrapped stack. When out on the lawn there was a crash and a clatter I ran out the front door to see what was the matter. When what to my wondering eyes did appear A large man in a red suit yelling "oh dear" "I've appointments all over," said the man who was fat. "And now just look here, my tire is flat!" We invited him in though we warned him of flu. And waited for the Auto club to do what they do. Then we wrapped while we waited, The fat guy was good! We tried to keep up as well as we could. At last we were done, and so was the tire. The man he arose from in front of the fire And we heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight. "Merry Christmas to you and to you Ah ah ah CHOO! Written by Donna Pryer during a very bad flu season! Donna (wife to Ron and mom to the blessings 11) ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Football(Alabama) From: Kennedy (jonbkennedy@yahoo.comnospam) Subject: T'was the night before... Newsgroups: alt.books.dean-koontz Date: 2002-12-01 22:11:40 PST Twas the night of the Iron Bowl, when all through the land, not a Bama fan was smiling, especially Coach Fran. His hopes were high that a bowl game was near - oops, I forgot - no bowl game this year. The rednecks were nestled all snug in their seats, with Colt 45 cans scattered at their feet. With Cadillac, Ronnie, and Brandon in the shop, you would've thought those Tigers would be easy to stop. When out on the field there arose such a clatter, that Torbush sprang up to see what was the matter. When what to his wondering eyes should appear, but a really short white guy outdoing Beard. Campbell to Johnson again and again, by the way have you heard that cheaters never win. More costly than Means were the touchdowns that came, as Auburn began to run away with the game. Chizik whistled and shouted and called them by name, "Now Dansby! Now Rogers! Now Robinson and Thomas! On Torbor! On Rosegreen! On McNeil and Willis! Open up a can boys, and watch Fran head for Texas!" And then in a twinkling, I saw on the tube, Croyle and his friends were looking like boobs. I think your recruits were understandably appalled, when your announcer kept bragging, "This is Alabama football!" But don't cry Bama fans, over your lost bounty, for your next quarterback will be a walk-on from the county. And you do have your "Tide pride", as you say, but unfortunately "class" is not something for which you can pay. And although you will one day forget this disaster, until then remember to BOW TO YOUR MASTER! WAR EAGLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BTW, isn't it Gayle whose sons go to Auburn and 'Bama? That's the kind of shit that will start a new Civil War. ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Football(AntiDallasCowboys1) Subject: *TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE ........... From: LQVF98A@prodigy.com (Bob Holder) Date: 1997/12/24 Message-ID: <67r3mt$1j98$1@newssvr04-int.news.prodigy.com> Newsgroups: alt.sports.football.pro.dallas-cowboys This is for the Cowboy fans who run their mouths Twas The Night Before The Playoffs And All Through The Land People Were Getting Nervous Except Cowboy Fans. The Pr Garbage Started Early It Was Way Before The Fall Started By Cowboy Bandwagoners Madden And Summerall The Team Won The Opener And Then Headed South While Its Loser Fans Continually Ran Their Mouths Emmitt Faked His Injuries While Reducing His Stats By Getting Stuffed At The Line By The Leagues Doormats Irvin Cried On The Sidelines Without Any Pain But The Dreadful Though Of Being Without Cocaine I've Thoroughly Enjoyed The Cowboys Decline Listening To Your Excuses And Constant Howling Whine For The Playoffs Are For Teams Who Truly Have No Fear Its Great That Losers Like You Arent Even Here The Games Are In Tampa And New York Too But No Game In Dallas For Losers Like You While The Rest Of The NFL Continues To Laugh The Only Thing You Got Is Next Spring's Draft And While I Write This Poem And Have Your Ear It's Great Listening To Losers Like You Scream "Wait Till Next Year" We Will Spend Christmas Singing Fa- La- La- La- La Enjoy The Playoffs, You Losers Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Football(AntiDallasCowboys2) Author: THE NFLGURU Email: Holder1@prodigy.net Date: 1998/12/22 Forums: alt.sports.football.pro.dallas-cowboys, alt.sports.football.pro.gb-packers, alt.sports.football.pro.sf-49ers, alt.sports.football.pro.wash-redskins Visit the alt.sports.football.pro.dallas-cowboys community! Twas the Night before Playoffs Twas the night before the playoffs and all through the league QB's were licking their chops at Kevin Smith and George Teague At first Terry Donahue was thought to be the man but Mr Salary Cap was cheap and got some goof named Chan It was way back in April I started to laugh When the Cowboys reached for Greg Ellis with the 8th pick of the draft I laughed even harder as the season got near cause the Cowboys said "Emmitt is really motivated THIS year" Emmitt was stopped at the line again and again he's the answer to the question Who is a washed up has-been?? They said it was Irvin who would deliver the mail he spent his time on crack and should be in jail Last year it was Anthony Miller who would provide the thrills??? they got rid of him and signed "MR. I.R" Ernie Mills The Cowboys provided us with a comedy of errors ever since they talked smack then got buried by the Bears As the Cowboy bandwagoners prepared for their loss They remember draft expert Jerry Jones Passing on Randy Moss The Cowboy fans would boast of their big start Until town drunk Kerry Collins ripped that defense apart Then came Kansas City with no post season hope I toasted Champagne and watched Dallas get smoked They are Division Champs the idiots would beam until they looked at the schedule loaded with doormat teams OH, they beat the Redskins and the mighty Eagles too but that wont get you to playoff round two This Christmas while you sing carols FA-LA-LA-LA-LA The NFLUGURU says Put a fork in the Cowboys-HA HA HA HA HA. Merry Christmas from The NFLGURU 1998......... ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Football(Browns) From: Brownstown (Brownstown@XXXcox.net) Subject: 'Twas the night before the Browns game Newsgroups: alt.sports.football.pro.cleve-browns Date: 2003-01-05 00:48:36 PST Twas the night before the Browns game, when all through C-town not a Browns fan was stirring, not even Jim Brown. The beer was stacked in the fridge with care, in hopes that 1:00 PM Sunday would soon would be there. The children had their Couch jerseys on snuggled in bed, while visions of William Green scoring danced in their heads. With the old lady in her orange teddy, and Dwayne Rudd in his cap, we ate our Kielbasa and bitched about Sapp. When in the backyard there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my brown Lay-Z-Boy to see what was the matter. Like a Northcutt TD, I rose in a flash, tore open the basement door, and hid my hash. The Firebird covered with new-fallen snow. Looked down the street, a Mopar in tow. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 8 Steeler fans wearing jerseys of Kordell the queer. With big beer bellies, so ugly and sick, I knew in a moment it, it was no Michael Vick. More rapid than eagles, was approaching the game, I whistled and shouted and called them by name: "Now Punk! Now Hick! Now Herpes and Troll On, Jason! On, Steeler Nation! On, Jackass, Asshole! Get off the porch! Better run for the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" If you've never seen a Steeler fan fly, let him stare down the barrel as you look in his eye. Over the neighbors white picket, they flew, with pockets filled with food stamps, and penicillan too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard down the street The running and sprinting of sixteen smelly feet. As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the street, came running a hound. He had brown shiny fur, from his head to his paws, and his collar was orange, razor teeth in his jaws. A bundle of Pitt fans he had flung on their backs, and he looked quite amused as he ripped out their sacks. His eyes - how they burned! His growl, how scary! He spit out some flesh and women's lips that were hairy. His snarling mouth dripped blood on the snow, The last Steeler fan walking had no place to go. The arms of the prior, he held tight in his teeth, 9 legs and a torso draped on like a wreath. The last Steeler fan standing had a fat ole' belly, filled with Iron City and a tube of KY jelly. He once had made fun of the old Brownie elf, and I laughed when I saw him, enjoying myself. A bloodshot eye and a growth on his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke very poorly and couldn't find work, even his own children think he's a jerk. And laying his finger inside of his nose, Dsiplaying the typical Steeler fan pose. He sprang to his feet, to his boyfriends gave a shout, And away they all flew, like when the bars let out. But I heard him exclaim, as they drove out of sight, Don't fuck with the dawgs, BT was right!!! ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Football(Buccaneers) From: Pete (mrpickle57@aol.com) Subject: Bucs victory poem !! Newsgroups: alt.sports.football.pro.tampabay-bucs Date: 2003-01-24 09:35:19 PST Got this from a buddy, enjoy.. Pete THE NIGHT OF THE BIG GAME By Lee Surrett Adapted from, Twas the Night Before Christmas Twas the night of the big game, and all throughout Philly, The Eagle fans were partying and running willy-nilly, The Eagles were well coached, the field was groomed with care, In hopes that the Buccaneers would soon be defeated there. The Eagle players and their fans were all well fed, As visions of the Super Bowl danced in their head. The halftime performers were dressed in coat and cap, While the singers were dancing and rehearsing their "Rap". The sports writers and t.v. crews were full of idle chatter, Telling the nation how the Eagles would turn the Bucs into spatter. The Eagle players all ran out onto the field of play, Confident that they would win and be a part of Super Bowl Day. The Buccaneers now took the field with their coach looking plucky, Veterans Stadium exploded as all Eagle fans heartily booed "Chucky". His players were well prepped and ready to play the game, He whistled and shouted and encourged them by name. Chucky's eyes –how they twinkled! His dimples how merry, But the way his face was contorted was really quite scary. With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head, The Buccaneer players knew they had nothing to dread. The Bucs kicked off and the Eagles began to soar, Within a few minutes they had made their first score. The Buccaneers were dazed and really quite cold, But they answered the Eagles by kicking a field goal. The Eagles began to wonder what was in store, As the A-Train rumbled into the end zone to score. Now it was a pass from Brad to "Key" as the Bucs scored six; The Eagle players and their fans knew they were in a hell of a fix! The players grunted and groaned as they played the game, But for the Eagles it was more of the same. With the Buccaneer defenders playing with resolve and class, The Eagles knew that they had to start scoring fast. The Eagles flew down the field with a desperate try, They had already poked Warren Sapp in the eye. McNabb passed the ball in hopes of a quick score, But the Bucs were ready and Ronde Barber took the floor. Ronde grabbed the football and streaked up the grass, The Eagle fans groaned, for they knew that the Bucs had kicked their "ass". The Bucs and their fans went wild with glee, For now the Super Bowl was awaiting them you see. Since 1976 we have all suffered with the previous Buc teams, But now Buccaneer fans everywhere can realize their dreams. For it's on to San Diego our proud Buc team flies, With hopes of kicking mud into the Oakland Raiders eyes. Fight hard you Buccaneers and make us all proud as hell, As we remember Coach McCay, David Lewis, and Ricky Bell. We'll savor the moment and enjoy the Super Bowl "show biz", With hopes of winning and proclaiming, "How sweet It Is". ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Football(DallasCowboys)1 From: BW (69ZL1vette@attbi.com) Subject: Holiday Jones Newsgroups: alt.sports.football.pro.dallas-cowboys Date: 2002-12-19 10:56:53 PST By David Fleming and Clement C. Moore ESPN The Magazine 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Jerry's house Not a Cowboy was talking, not even Troy Hambrick -- that louse; The jerseys were hung in the lockers with care, In hopes that some real football players soon would be there. The fans were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Jimmy Johnson danced in their heads; And Campo in sans-a-belt, and I in my cap, Had just settled down for an off-the-record chat. When up on the screen there arose such a clatter, It's the GM, whispered Campo, that's what's the matter; Away to the highlights we flew like a flash, Both of us tripping over Nate Newton's old stash. There we watched T.O. dancing on blue turf, The once-proud Cowboys now looking like Smurfs; [He scored once, then he did it again; SF left with a 31-27 win.] When what to my bloodshot eyes should appear, But a Mercedes, with eight women in hot pants and cheer. They had a weird-looking driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be Jerry Jones -- we'll call him St. Slick. More rapid than eagles his comments they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and seemed quite insane. "Fire, CAMPO! Fire COSLET! Fire ZIMMER! Even STEPHEN, MY SON! Cut, EMMITT! Cut QUINCY! Cut ALLEN and WOODSON! To the bottom of the standings! How far can we fall? I'll fire them! Fire them! Fire them all!" And then, in a twinkling, I read on the wire, It was Norv Turner whom St. Slick wanted to hire; I drew in my breath and uttered this sound: Is there any way Jerry can run himself outta town? He was dressed in a silk/wool blend, from his head to his foot, And his rep as a GM was tarnished with soot; Forty million in bonuses he had flushed down the drain, "We couldn't even beat Houston!" he whimpered in vain. His eyes -- how they sunk! His voice -- it did crack, His team was about to lose 11 games in seasons back-to-back-to-back; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, One more injured lineman and this dude might blow! "We quit against the Giants," he said, gritting his teeth, And the smoke from his ears circled his head like a wreath; "We've got no defense, our tackling is quite smelly, And our offense couldn't run through a bowlful of jelly." "Sure, Emmitt is still a great jolly old elf, But his best performances are usually with Alf."; St. Slick had a tear in his eye, his look seemed much harder, What the hell was he thinking drafting Quincy Carter? He spoke no more, but went straight to his work, And attacked his coaches and roster with the usual knee jerk; Laying his finger aside of his cheek, He wished the Cardinals would come back to the NFC East. Then he sprang to his Mercedes and I asked for a word, Instead he paused -- smiling, he flipped me the bird, But I heard St. Slick exclaim as he drove from the noise, "MERRY CHRISTMAS YA'LL! AND HOW 'BOUT THEM COWBOYS?" ************************************************************ ************************************************************
Short Title: Football(DallasCowboys)2 From: Rodney Parker (rparker151@cox.net) Subject: The Night Before Christmas (LONG) Newsgroups: alt.sports.football.pro.dallas-cowboys Date: 2002-12-24 20:15:37 PST Twas the night before Christmas, when all through this group Not a creature was stiriing, 'cept Coslet, (the poop). The stockings were hung by the end zone with care With hope that Coslet's offense might one day get there. Rat was nestled, all snug in his bed, While visions of blonde QBs danced in his head. Another bad season, for many bad reasons, We settled our brains for a long offseason. When down from the hall there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the film room, only to find Goodrich asleep (as he is most of the time). Continuing down the hall, I opened the next door, Finding Antonio Bryant throwing a fit on the floor. "Just give me the ball, I can do it, I swear!" (Course Campo doesn't even know even he's in there). I opened another, and what did I see? A huge office that looked like an infirmary. There were bandages and braces, and tape of all kinds, And a sign that said "reserved for the offensive line". The next door I opened revealed quite a sight. It was Coslet, hard at work under a dim desk light. His mood was intense, his concentration keen. (No doubt drawing up yet another $#*@^&! Four-yard pass play to be $#*@^&! Used on $#*@^&! Third and $#*@^&! Thirteen). Behind the next door was Campo, exuding such glee, Practicing game day decisions on Madden 2K3. Farther down the hall I found the source of the noise. It was Jerry Clause, bringing gifts for the Cowboys. Why do we doubt him, it can't be that bad. Why last year he got Glover, and Williams, and..Chad? As the end of the 2002 season approaches, He leans into the hall and bellows for the coaches. "On Campo, On Zimmer, On Joe Avezzano" "Hey! Where the hell's Coslet, that piece of horse-guano?" "Y'all gotta go, get the heck out of Dodge" "There's a new coach a-comin', and he needs a place to lodge". You see, Santa Jones may have finally learned his lesson. And if he has, we can include that as we count up out blessings. For there is some talent here, but we'd love to see some more. Especially on offense, THEN maybe we'll score. I still think that Emmitt has gas in the tank, And behind a decent O-line, those yards he'd still crank. If Martin's the fullback we think he could be, We'll find out for sure when he's good two good knees. Bryant's a keeper, and maybe even Whalen. When we finally get a QB, who knows where we're sailin'? Now Hutch could be the guy, and Quincy, as well. Face it, with this coaching staff, how could anyone tell? On the defense, the ability of the line ain't certain. And if we land a pass-rushing end, we sure won't be hurtin'. While somewhat unknown, I like our linebackers. They're certainly quick, and they sure ain't no slackers. They criticize Nguyen, they say he's small. But he always seems to be around the ball. With Hardy on one side, opposite Dexter They should be quite solid when we finally hit next year. The secondary's young, and I get the feeling That Roy Williams will be leaving more running backs reeling. And you know, I don't think we'd find it a drag If Santa Jones has a shutdown corner in his bag. So fill a few holes, and let's see what goes When a new coaching staff prepares the boys for their foes. For some talent should be there with '03 approaching. This team might be better, once we have better coaching. So Jones rounded up coaches, and showed them the door. "Don't let it hit ya where the good Lord split ya", he roared. And I heard him exclaim as they rang Christmas Bells "Merry Christmas to All! Show in Mr. Parcells". Rod ************************************************************ ************************************************************