Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Variations
Version 2007.1
Part 28 of 50
January 7, 2007

Compiled by: Matthew Monroe

Archived at:

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: Motorcycle1

From: optaylor (
Subject: The Night B'fore XMAS 
Date: 2001-12-24 18:31:14 PST 
The Night B'fore XMAS
As re-written by OPIE

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through my house
There were hopes of new sprockets, from Renthal or Krause;
Rad Cages and Gold Valves all fitted with care,
Creating new horsepower to jump here and jump there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While on XR's and CR's they played in their heads;
And mom in her Fox shirt and I in No-Fear,
Had just settled in for the snooze of the Year,

When from a four -stroke there arose such a clatter,
I thought that it's valve train would soon for sure shatter.
With speeds I've not seen, I was sure it would crash,
This BLUE want to be 2-stroke disappeared in a flash!

I peered out the window to the street down below'
Could this be a bike or just yellow snow,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Man on an RM sporting Red and White gear,

With that little old rider, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment that this bike was trick!.
With Excel and Sunline , RG3 and Tag,
It looked to be from an MXA wish bag;

"Now, Sunstar! now, Pro-line! now, Answer and Hinson!
On, O'Neal! on N-style! on, Wisecoco Forged Pistons!
Things dreams are made of from bars to wheels!
Afforded by all, That is if we STEAL!!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the take-off the Riders they flew,
With bikes filled with VP, Pre-mixed with Casterol too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard from the roof
Someone hitting the Chimney with an audible OOF!.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Who else but Seth Enslow would fall to the ground.

He was covered in tin-foil, from his head to his foot,
Like an Alien Pot Pie all covered in soot;
A bundle of bike parts strapped to his back,
You would think it was Jeffro smuggling crack. 
  (I know That was low but I needed a rhyme)

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
This isn't Fro, MY GOD it's TIM FERRY!,!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
On his 426 how fast could he go;

Bouncing the back wheel off the stump of a tree,
Into the forest he rode laughing with glee!
And close behind but gaining fast,
Jimmy the Elf on his 02 Gas Gas

There was Larocco and Travis ,  Kdub and Mac,
Clearing the drifts like a Supercross track;
Degan and Mad Mike tried to give it a wack ,
by busting out crazed version of a twisted Nac-Nac;

When out of the east midst the flora and fauna ,
came the smallest elf yet on a blazing fast Honda,
A wee button nose and rosy red cheeks ,
It was Ricky Clause the hardest to beat ;

He sprang with his bike, above all the rest,
With a grin on his face and a One on his chest.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he rode out of sight,

Merry Christmas everyone,
May God bless you and keep you in the comming year ans may all your wishes come true,
  Jerry, Cindy, Christina, Jeremy
  The Curringtons


Short Title: Motorcycle2

Subject:      'Twas the Night Before Raceday (A Poem)
From: (Steve Elder)
Date:         1997/12/19
Message-ID:   <67dn83$82n$>

(This was originally in Cycle News way back in the early '70's. I still have
the clipping. I don't know exactly how old it is, but the back of the article shows
an ad for Mavrick Motocross shocks for $29.95 a pair and a Mavrick spool
front hub for $10.00! Enjoy...)


'Twas the night before raceday
And all through the house
There was bending of wrenches
From hubby to spouse.

The children were tucked
All snug in their beds
While visions of trophying
Danced in their heads.

The van in the driveway
Was ready to go
The leathers were polished
The helmets aglow.

Ma in her coveralls
And Pa in his jeans
Had just settled down
To work on the machines.

When from inside the engine
There arose such a clatter
He pulled off the head
To see what was the matter.

The light from the dropcord
On the new polished head
Showed nothing the matter
But the engine was dead.

When what to his wondering
Eyes should appear
But a busted up crank
And worn out main gear.

He knew in a moment
He must find the trick
To keep his scoot running
So rapid and quick.

"My spanner, my sockets
Put the light over here
Wife quit your bitchin'
Now hand me a beer".

He spoke not a word
But went straight to his work
Repaired the trouble
And turned with a jerk,

And laying his Coors can
Aside at his feet
Exclaimed with great pride
"I'll never be beat".

They heard him yell
As he drove out of sight
"Tomorrow I'll be first"
And they knew he was right,

For whenever he raced
He raced with his heart
But on Sunday morning
The bike wouldn't start.


Short Title: Motorcycle3

From: Wizard (
Subject: The Night Before Christmas 
Date: 2002-12-24 15:57:05 PST 

Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to all. 

   The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The little lad Phill tossed and turned in his bed
While his old CG fieldbike lay rusting and dead. 

The bikers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Gixxers danced round in their heads;
And Mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

While TOG answered emails, like a guru all-wise;
To each new inquirer, he'd sagely advise:
"Your choice is your own; you should do as you like;
But don't pay too much for a Shitty Old Bike."

At the Lloyd Cooper temple, at midnight less five
All united to praise the C G One Two Five.
They followed tradition, passed on year by year
By making the Sign of the Sacred Valve Gear. 

Then outside my window I heard such a hoon,
That I sprang from the bed by the light of the moon.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. 

To do this at midnight! there's just no excuse.
Clearly something out there was marked "Not for road use".
Aroused from my sleep, I was grouchy and stroppy
But my mood was improved by the sound of a stoppie.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a sidecar, with power by many reindeer,

And a little old rider, who started to swear,
And I instantly knew it must be Bastard Bear.
More rapid than 'Busas his reindeer they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:  

Come MELDREW! Come DARSY! let's go on a binge!
Come wheelie, come wheelie, come wheelie you-all!

BALLISTIC! And REXX! All stand by to propel!
We're setting off soon- so don't fidget and stamp!

No waiting! Start moving! Let's f*****g get budging!
To the best pub in Sarratt! and then on into town!
Now getyerknees! getyerknees! getyerknees down!"

He sprang to his sidecar, and gave out a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him call out, as he flew past the moon:

With apologies to Major Henry Livingston Jr. (1748-1828)


Short Title: Motorcycle4

From: Wayne Jones (
Subject: The night before Xmas biker style 
Date: 2003-12-26 19:26:04 PST 

My apologies of anyone has already posted this
Wayne 2000 Blue GL1500SE

'Twas the night before Christmas, And not until Spring,
Would an engine be running, not even a Wing.
The bikes are all sleeping, They’re covered and warm
Batteries are tended, nylon covers their form.

My Bros were all nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of new chrome danced in their heads.
And I in my doo-rag, bike jacket and boots,
Out shoveling snow, and dreaming of scoots.

Then from the horizon there came such a clatter,
My shovel I dropped, what could be the matter?
Away up the hill, I slogged through the snow,
Looked up at the sky; where’d all that noise go?

A throb from the heavens like straight pipes so hearty,
Gave Summers’ good thoughts, a loud bikers’ party.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Hog Ultra Classic, Red trailer in rear.

With a little old rider, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than Crotchies his Ultra came on,
And he whistled, and shouted, and sang out this song;

"Now, Harley! Now, Big Dog! On Honda and Beamer!
Now Vulcan! Now Injun! On Vict’ry and Trumpet!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now RIDE away! RIDE away! RIDE away all!"

As small bikes that from the semis do fly,
When they meet with the air blast, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top that Ultra it flew,
With a trailer of goodies, and ole’ St. Nick too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The rumble and thunder of pipes that gave proof.
I ran to the house, boots thumping around,
And in came St. Nick all bearded and round.

Dressed all in black leather, from do-rag to boot,
His chaps were all tarnished with road grime and soot.
A T-bag of goodies he’d flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His shades -- how they twinkled! his do-rag how scary!
With chains intertwined, through skulls that were cherry!
His droll little mouth had done many a row,
So the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The smoke had a strange smell; it gave him relief!
He had a broad face and a large fat beer belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was tattooed and plump, a right jolly old rider,
So I offered a cold Bud, thought what could be righter?
A wink of his eye as he downed that cold beer,
Gave me to know I had nothing to fear.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to my ride,
And fixed it with Chrome, Horsepower and Pride!
And giving the peace sign with bikers’ good cheer,
Took off for his Ultra rumbling near.

He sprang on the saddle, his gloves on the bars,
A wheeley he threw then off towards the stars!
I heard him exclaim, as my chest swelled with pride...
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good ride!


Short Title: MotorcycleHarley1

Subject:      Re: Merry CHRISTMAS
From: (ftwhd)
Date:         1997/12/11
Message-ID:   <66ndqd$>

A Christmas poem...

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the pad,
There was nada happenin', now thats pretty bad.
The woodstove was hung up in that stocking routine,
In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene.

With our stomachs packed with tacos and beer,
My girl and I crashed on the couch for some cheer.
When out in the yard there arose such a racket,
I ran for the door and pulled on my jacket.

I saw a large bro' on a '56 Pan
Wearin' black leathers, a cap, and boots (cool biker, man).
He hauled up the bars on that bikeful of sacks,
And that Pan hit the roof like it was running on tracks.

I couldn't help gawking, the old guy had class.
But I had to go in -- I was freezing my ass.
Down through the stovepipe he fell with a crash,
And out of the stove he came dragging his stash.

With a smile and some glee he passed out the loot,
A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot.
He patted her fanny and shook my right hand,
Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe he ran.

From up on the roof came a great deal of thunder,
As that massive V-twin ripped the silence asunder.
With beard in the wind, he roared off in the night,
Shouting, "Have a cool Yule, and to all a good ride!"



Short Title: MotorcycleHarley2

Subject:      Twas the Night Before a Harley Christmas......
Date:         1997/12/24
Message-ID:   <67r8s5$>

              Happy Harleydays Everyone!
 I read rmh much more than I post, however, this has gotten to be an
annual posting for me the past few years. I hope you enjoy it as much as
we do.

      Twas the Night Before a Harley Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru the house
Not a present in sight, I felt like a louse.
I had scrounged high and low for that certain possession
That could pass for a gift in this time of recession.

But all that I owned was old and worn out,
Surely nothing a child would get hyper about.
And there in a pile on the dining room table
Were all of the Christmas cards I'd forgotten to lable.

"Bah, humbug", I grumbled, "What do I care?"
I turned on the TV, collapsed in a chair.
Then out on the lawn there arose such a roar
I rushed down the hall, threw open the door.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a clean crimson Harley, overflowing with gear!
With a little old rider so odd and so weird,
Things were about to get worse, I suddenly feared.

I slammed the door shut, dead-bolted the lock,
Then at the back window I heard a soft knock.
I dashed up the hall, alarmed at the sound,
In thru the window he came with a bound.

He was dressed in black leather, from his head to his boot.
And thrown over his back was a bag full of loot.
I let out a scream, but he whispered real quick,
"Don't you recognize me? I'm good old St. Nick!"

"St. Nick", I stammered, "No way, Jose!
Where are your reindeer, where is your sleigh?"
"I laid the deer off a few years ago.
That darn global warming, there's too little snow.

The sleigh, it got stuck in the mud and the muck,
then Godzilla stepped on it, such was my luck.
Now the reindeer stay home, quite safe and quite warm.
I ride my old Harley, thru sleet and rain storm."

He took off his helmet while thus softly speaking.
His voice, it was calming, I was no longer freaking.
He opened his bag, began unpacking the toys,
Some pretty wild gifts for young girls and boys!

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,
The sight was uncanny, he looked like Ross Perot!

"Santa!", I exclaimed, "Where is your beard?
You look kind of funny, you look a bit weird.
And where is your round, fat little belly
That shook when you laughed, like a bowl full of jelly?"

"Ah, the milk and cookies", he said with a sigh,
"I gave them all up, cholesterol's too high.
And after all the new-fangled health hype,
Well, it was really hard, but I gave up my pipe.

As for the beard, it was always okay
When I flew thru the night with reindeer and sleigh.
But on the seat of a Harley, it's really quite sad,
Most folks thought with the beard, I looked biker bad".

So, laying a finger aside of his nose
Santa nodd'ed and chuckled, "That's how she goes!"
He dashed for the door, and went out with a leap,
Leaving presents galore, piled nearly knee deep!

He sprang to his bike, turned on the ignition,
And away he flew, a roaring ghostly apparition.
But I heard him exclaim, as he shifted up a gear,

                            Harley Santa '97

Hobie, Maria, and Little Harley Sutton (2 months more in the oven)
El Cajon HOG


Short Title: MotorcycleHarley3

From: Mark (
Subject: Christmas original!! 
Date: 2001-12-24 14:16:49 PST 

 ~Twas the night before christmas and I'm out on my scoot...
  I spot another sled, rode by a fat guy to boot!

  I twist back my throttle, to a maddening pace...
  and catch up to the fat guy, now it's a race.

  He's dressed in red and white with a big ol' beard,
  must be the time of the year, nothing too wierd.

  We catch a red light, giving me the time to pull along side,
  he looks and says "ain't it kinda cold for you to ride?"

  "Not at all, my gift to myself" I reply, enjoying the night,
  He then taunts "hows about we race to the next light?"

  I gave him the nod, pull in my clutch and drop into first,
  we get the green and I get the jump with an incredible burst.

  I'm pullin' the fat guy, quickly up through my gears,
  spooled up to near 80 with a shitload of tears.

  The light is coming fast, just changing from green to red,
  I yank on my binders, dropping gears to stop my sled.

  I think "Man, I whipped his ass, I'm so sly"
  maybe this old fat guy wants another try.

  I look over my shoulder, astonished there is no bike in sight,
  he couldn't have turned, not a single left nor right.

  Then over my head, I cast my eyes to the sky...
  to see the fat guy's scooter *flying* on by!!!!

  I try to speak, yet I can't get out a word,
  he's up there laughing, givin' me the bird!

  Well, I burn a ewey to go back home, I've had enough,
  gettin' beat by Santa on his flying FLH, life is tough.

  I snap on my rotor lock and put the cover on my sled,
  I need some whiskey, a cig, then it's time for bed.

  So here's a wish from me and my girls to all of you,
  may at least some of your christmas wishes come true.

  Keep the shiny side up, ride safe and ride long...
  and smile when you hear your V-twin's song.



Short Title: MotorcycleHarley4

From: Skiv (
Subject: The Biker's Night Before Christmas 
Date: 2002-12-07 18:29:01 PST 

It's been a few years since the last time I posted this. Used to be a
holiday tradition, then I kinda got outta the habit. So for the folks
who remember it and the folks who've never seen it, here it is:

The Biker's Night Before Christmas
           by Skiv

  'Twas the night before Christmas, and all round the pad,
  there was nada happenin', and that's nowhere, Dad.
  The stove was dressed out in that stocking routine,
  In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene.

  With our bellies all stuffed full of tacos and beer,
  Me and the bride hit the couch for some cheer.
  When out in the yard there arose such a racket,
  I ran for the door pulling on my old jacket.      

  I saw this old geezer on a '57 Pan,
  Wearin' boots and black leather, a real biker man.
  His eyes how they twinkled under eyebrows so thick,
  I knew right away that this dude was Saint Nick.

  "'Scuse me, Brother," his voice how it rumbled down low,
  "Have you got some spare wrenches?  My scooter won't go."
  "I was flyin' along when she started to get hot,
  Then she sputtered and coughed, and died on the spot."

  That bike was all covered with stuffed leather bags
  holding brightly wrapped presents with ribbons and tags.
  Saint Nick he was frantic, his face wore a frown.
  "The children are waiting. I can't let them down."

  I said, "Wheel it in, Man! We'll get that Pan tickin'
  "We've got leftover tacos, if you don't mind chicken."
  "If we can't get it running in an hour or so,
  You can borrow MY bike -- just load it and go."

  So we pushed it on in and unhitched the load,
  I could fix what was busted and he'd be back on the road.
  As I puzzled and muttered over that righteous ride,
  He scuffed on the doormat and went on inside.

  He was back in a flash, tacos piled on a plate
  And a glass of skim milk that he sipped as he ate.
  "It started to clatter," he said ?round a bite,
  "It started to miss, then just quit outright"

  "It's just been rebuilt from the frame up this year,
  But I guess it's a good thing that I broke down here.
  From the looks of the sleds that're lined up out back,
  You're a man with the skill to put me back on track."  

  "You're good to go now," I said, wiping my hands,
  "It was a quick fix, you can get on with your plans.
  "The coil wire got snagged and pulled off, don't you see,
  So when you get on, be careful with your knee."

  We put the bags on and he zipped up his jacket,
  Then he kicked it to life with rumble - not racket.
  He settled his cap and said, "Say, would you mind --
  If I road-test this pig to make sure that she's fine?'

  Flames shot from the pipes as he sped down the street,
  Then back by he came and that bike sounded sweet.
  He pulled up the bars on that Pan hung with sacks,
  And that bike hit the roof like it was running on tracks.    

  I couldn't help staring as he shifted the tranny,
  But I had to go in -- I was freezing my fanny.
  When down through the chimney he fell with a crash,
  And out of the woodstove he came dragging his stash.

  With a twinkling eye, he passed out the loot,
  A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot.
  He patted her ass and then shook my hand,
  Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe he ran.

  From up on the roof came a great peal of thunder,
  As that mighty V-twin tore the silence asunder.
  As he roared into the night, he waved and he cried,
  "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good ride."


Short Title: MotorcycleHarley5

From: MMrvichin (
Subject: Biker's version of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas 
Date: 2002-12-26 08:36:36 PST 

I couldn't find a decent version, so made up one myself.  Enjoy, & happy
holidays to all.

San Antonio, TX

(An original adaptation by 9Dot of San Antonio)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the shop
Not a motorcycle was stirring, not even a bruuuuup-pop;
The stockings were hung by the arc-welder with care,
In hopes that "Fat Dude" soon would be there;

The unfinished bikes were all lined up in their stalls,
While their owners missed them so much they probably began to climb the walls;
And biker mamma in her 'danna, and I in my leathers,
Had just settled down to wait out the snowy weather,

When out from the distance there arose a noise that made me stop,
I sprang from the bed to see who was trying to break into the shop.
Away to the window I took off like a bat out'a hell,
Tore open the window & slipping, almost fell.

The floodlight on the roof shown on the new-fallen snow
And gave the bar & shield logo a beautiful silver glow.
And what did my sleepy ol' eyes did see,
But a chopped & customized trike with chromed everything that did gleam.

With black leather chaps, grey beard & shades,
It had to be "Fat Dude" 'cause no one else would show up at 3am that way.
That trike it idled like a wild snortin' bronco,
And through the still night there arose, "potato-potato-potato".

"Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
What the hell are all of you doing blocking the road here,
There's nothing that hurts worse than riding in the dark & running into a deer.

Like hitting a spot of oil on the road,
And having your bike slip-slide under the load,
So up to the house-top the pipes he did roar,
With the trike loaded down full of toys, no need for a front door.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The crunch of the snow under that iron horse hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down through the chimney ol' "Fat Dude" hit the ground.

He was dressed all in black leather, from his head to his foot,
And had a look in his eye that made me stay put.
A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back,
And he smiled as under the tree he placed a new bike jack.

His eyes -- they seemed as if he could look right through you,
The braided ponytail swung to & fro, and an eagle tattoo in full view;
This sight of ol' "Fat Dude" left me with the idea,
That the flowing beard on his chin made him look just like Jerry Garcia.

No pipe, no chew, kind of a health nut was he,
Except for the occasional beer to wash down that dry cookie.
He had a rough-hewn face and a round beer gut,
And a long distance club riding patch to testify to having an iron butt.

I noticed his huge hands placing gifts under the tree,
Big enough to handle the power of that three-wheeler trike he'd named 'Rosie'.
Yet there was something about him I knew in my heart,
With this biker, his generosity & giant gentleness did him set apart.

For my ol' lady a new leather jacket, and a T-shirt for the kid,
And in my stocking I thought he put a new tie, God forbid!
In looking closer, it was something I'd really wanted,
A new concho belt, with the Harley bar & shield on it.

He gave me a glance & smiled to himself,
Then picked up his bag he had laid on the shelf;
One hand held the bag, one hand in his leather vest pocket,
Up the chimney he shot like a sports bike, crotch rocket.

He mounted the trike, and kicked over the engine,
Those Vance & Hines pipes roared; time to carry on with the night's mission.
But as he peeled off, I heard his voice thunder through,


Short Title: MountainBike

Subject: Re: Twas the night before Christmas 
Date: 12/29/1999 
Author: Paladin  
Newsgroup: alt.mountain-bike

Twas the night before xc-mas and all through the trail 
not a hiker was stirring not even a tail.  
I approached the trailhead with care, 
in hope that other riders would soon be there.

We took the bikes out of their racks with care 
in hopes of eventually getting some air.
The posers were nestled all snug in their beds 
while visions of riding danced in their heads.  

Little String in his kerchief and Clean in his, 
we were starting for the trail when we had to bail.

When out of the bush there arose such a chatter 
that we both almost biffed as we pondered the matter. 
Away up the trail we road in a flash 
afraid that something would eat our little ass!

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
but all my ol riding buds each with their own suds.  
More rapid than eagles, in courses they came, 
and he whistled and shouted and called us lame names.  

They road treks, Specs, Gt's and Girvins, 
and even a Cannondale belonged to big Ervin.  
So we road and we road and we climbed and went down hills 
even all through the night without any pills.  

Dash away dash away lets move our hide 
this was the night that we had the "great ride".

 by John Bean
 Disclaimer- done in short notice, I welcome similar and better!
~Clean Bean still bouncing over rocks in Sunny Central Texas


Short Title: MouseGertrude

Submitted by: Ilze Oredson
January 2003


Holiday Poetry Contest 2002

'Twas the Night Before Christmas
By Diana J. Baker
Woodstock, Georgia

'Twas the night before Christmas and Gertrude the mouse
Was running madly all through the house.
She looked in the stockings hung with such care
In hopes that a morsel of food would be there.

Although her children were nestled in bed,
Her thoughts of the morning brought nothing but dread.
The mother and father in 'kerchief and cap
Were tossing and turning and trying to nap.

Oh, who could help them with such a great matter?
No food in the house - no gifts to bring laughter.
When suddenly outside 'Trude saw something flash;
She leaped on the shutters and looked past the sash.

The moon sparkling brightly on new-fallen snow
Revealed many people moving quietly below.
Where did they come from? How did they appear?
She wiped off the window - she wanted it clear.

There were all kinds of people; they were lively and quick,
Moving as though they could hear the clock tick.
They multiplied rapidly -through the night they came,
Not wanting anyone to know them by name.

They stacked up packages and all kinds of fixings,
Left canned goods and lots of great dinnertime mixings,
Decorated a tree on the top of a wall,
Then dashed away, dashed away, dashed away all.

How could so many people just fly
Right out of 'Trude's sight in the blink of an eye?
As they disappeared, out the door 'Trude flew
To see what they'd brought - all these things brand new.

But then in a twinkling she heard on the roof
What sounded like prancing of more than one hoof.
'Trude looking up, saw someone move 'round;
Under a bush she leaped with a bound.

It wasn't St. Nicholas in fur to his foot,
But rather a man cleaning off all the soot.
A bundle of lights he had flung on his back,
And it looked like other things were still in his pack.

His eyes - how they twinkled - as lights danced so merry -
Blue lights and green lights, some red like a cherry.
The man gave a smile as the bright light rainbow
Shimmered and sparkled on the roof full of snow.

The colors reflected in the white of his teeth;
The rays from his flashlight lit up a green wreath.
He had put up a star - that would please little Ellie,
And a gingerbread man - a favorite for Nelly,

And there was a mouse dressed up like an elf.
'Trude asked when she saw it, "Could it be me, myself?"
With twinkling eyes and a cap on his head,
The man lifted from 'Trude every feeling of dread.

As he tied down the things down and finished his work,
He came down a ladder without even a jerk.
As he passed by, 'Trude saw soot on his nose;
She saw that it even had covered his clothes.

He didn't seem to mind - he started to whistle
As he got in his truck near the bird's favorite thistle.
She heard him exclaim as he drove toward the light,


Short Title: Moving

Subject: OT: Twas the night before Moving 
Date: 10/06/2000 
Author: pud  
Twas the night before moving
And all thru the house
Not a creature was stirring
'Cept Furby, the louse        

They picked up the dumpster
At 9:30 AM
I wasn't done with it. Darn!
He just said, sorry Mam
I packed all this morning
And into the night
I'm good with a tape gun
Seal them puppies up tight!
The cat's still not talking
She's yowling instead
She knows something's up
Hope she doesn't pee on our bed
Hubby came home 
While I was downstairs
Packing his tool room
Oh my what a scare
He actually asked me
Could I make him lunch!
He almost got punched!
Took Kid to the doctor
He's fine it's not strep
Told the doctor we're moving
He recommended a scotch
To the liquor store
I needed more wine
The owner laughed at me
"No more boxes this time?"          
The checkbook is balanced
The bills are all paid
So now I know
Settlement can be made
Only 3 loads of laundry
Yet to be done
Dried and then folded
I have done a ton
The wine bottle is open
The corkscrew saved
To use for tomorrow
On moving day
The pizza is winging 
On it's way as we speak
Along with some hotwings
Those are my treat!
On Stephen, on Simba, 
On Toby, On Bernie,
On Mary, On Movers,
On boxes, and  Furby
To the inside of the van
OMG what a haul
Now dash away dash away
Dash away all
I'll see you next week
After all this muck
With computer in force
And ALL loaded up!
Mary f.  (for Redskin fans!)


Short Title: MovingToKashmir

From: S.James,Esq, (
Subject: A Blast From the Past... 
Date: 2002-12-18 11:40:24 PST 

My Christmas present to the Kingdom...

'Twas the night before Christmas -- and all through the NG
Not a creature was stirring -- not even a Welby.
Everyone was away -- with family and friends, 
A fact which the spammers -- could not comprehend.

And so the men of the Kingdom -- slept in their beds
As Girasol's boobies -- danced in their heads. 
The letters to Santa -- had already been mailed,
With each single wish -- minutely detailed:

Drake's Cakes for Carla -- and Scream for GC,
And a three input real doll -- for GallowayC.
A Tribble for CJ -- Dianetics for Thoreau,
And a pooper probe for Jen Digits -- Ho Ho Ho Ho!

A gun rack for Pete -- pink dye for Margo's hair,
And for Jessica -- *gasp* a new teddy bear!
Woodsy and Pam -- asked for the same exact thing:
An 8 by 10 glossy -- autographed by the King. ;)

Nutella for the Queen -- a dictionary for Anna
And extra crunchy croutons -- for picky Johannah. 
Weikel as always -- was with her wish shrewd,
But even St. Nick -- can't get Nightman renewed.

The cousins from Jersey -- were easy this year,
Asking only for cigs -- plus a case of Lite beer.
And S. John's odd wish -- made Santa scratch his jaw:
He asked for steel cockrings -- and a brand new hacksaw.
Yet, little did all -- the newsgroupies know
That St. Nick this Christmas -- would be a no show.

See, back in the days -- of early November,
Buckley learned Santa -- was no union member.
Then came the picket signs -- and threat of strikes
As all the greedy elves -- demanded pay hikes.
Rather than deal -- with such a revolt,
Santa replied -- "Do you think I'm a dolt?"
"There are plenty of elves -- to be had on the cheap"
"To hell with your demands -- go take a leap!"

So Santa took the Mrs. -- and all the reindeer.
And moved his workshop -- to the land of Kashmir.
Thus, Christmas this season -- will see a delay
As moving is slow -- when you travel by sleigh.
And when it yet comes -- Christmas may be bizarre
Since Santa's new foreman -- is a guy named... Shridhar!


Short Title: MrActual

   Author:   Oppenhiem
   Date: 1998/12/25
   Forums: alt.comedy.standup

    by Randy Oppenheimer
    No Relation to the Man Who Stopped the Japs Who Stole Christmas!

Twas the night before Christmas
And Mr. Actual 3
Had his head in his hand
And his elbow on knee.

Bah humbug! Bah humbug!
"God is just bunk!"
Mr. Actual Said
"And Jesus? A Punk!"

"And babys too!
Their just taking up space!
Theres too many people
Running the race!"

There he sat in his room
And to no one he cried,
"And cats suck too!
You buy one... it dies!"

"And Hollywood too!
It's full of baloney!
With hookers and crack
and Show Business Phonies!"

He logged onto the newsgroup
and started to post
Then heard a noise and looked up,
It was a big foggy Ghost!

"Mr. Actual 3!"
Cried the Ghost with a shiver!
"You've lost your poor soul
and I'm here to deliver!"

"Wha? Hey! Who are you?"
Yelled Actual with a shriek
"If you're here for the rent,
Better come back next week!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeoooo!" Screamed the Ghost.
And Actual got scared!
Everything on his body
Stood up that had hair!

"You'll see 3 more ghosts!
This ghost billowed and puffed
Then he pointed his finger,
"And don't give them your guff!"

Then the ghost disappeared!
Actual hoped he'd been dreaming.
But then he saw the new ghost!
And he heard himself screaming!

The Ghost was weird looking!
His face just kept changing.
His features were'nt stable!
They kept rearranging!!

All the faces Actual had known
From all over the place
Kept showing up
On this scary ghosts face!

"Come with me," said the ghost,
"We're taking a trip
"Can I have some water first?" asked Actual.
"Well okay. But just a sip!"

And back in time they went!
To when Actual was a youngster.
You could see right away,
Actual was a high-strungster.

Little Actual said,
"Dad! Could we go to the park?"
Little Actual's dad yelled,
"I'm too tired! It's too dark!"

Little Actual asked "Dad, will you come
to Father and Son Day at Church?
"What? That's bowling night, sorry!"
Said his Dad with a lurch.

Little Actual ran off
Straight to his bed!
"I hate my church!" he cried,
And to me, God is DEAD!"

"And I hate my dad too!
I declare a love hystarectomy!
And from now on I have my
Books and Poetry and to protect me!"

Little Actual cried,
like a child who was doomed!
Then with a flash Mr. Actual
Was back alone in his room!

Just then he looked up!
It was the ghost of Christmas Present
In a black Nazi uniform!
And a crisp German Accent!

"You vill come with me!"
Yelled the ghost, his heels clicking,
And his cane in Actual's ribs
He kept constantly sticking!

Actual was now floating
in a comdey club, in the back
Sitting all alone
Wearing a big Cowboy hat!

And Judy walked up!
"Hey! Aren't you Actual 3?"
Actual said "Uh um no!
No way! That's not me!"

Judy walked sadly away,
Crossing off Actuals name with a pen.
"Too bad. I was going to ask
If he'd like to see Aspen."

"Christmas Ghost of the Present!
Is that what I do?"
The Ghost kicked Actual
With the jack of his boot!

The Ghost Nazi then glared
right in Mr. Actual's eye!
For a long time he did this,
then he said quietly with a smile:

"A concentration camp's in your head.
And the camps name is FEAR.
You are your own Nazi
Yelling in your own ear."

And with a click of his heels,
The Ghost Nazi faded out!
"Is that Nazi ghost right?"
Actual asked, with a pout.

Just then another Ghost came
Wearing a black cloak and a hat!
It looked like Ally McBeal,
But thinner than that!

"Are you the Ghost of my future?"
Mr. Actual cried out.
Please, please do not show me!
I don't want to find out!"

Mr. Actual found himself
In a cheap seedy Motel.
He said "What a dump!
And hey, what's that smell?"

The ghost and Actual 3
Floated into a room.
A homeless guy and a dog,
Stood in the corner in gloom.

The homeless guy was staring
at a guy laying still in a bed.
It didn't take long,
To see he was dead!

"I'm sorry you died,"
Said the homeless old man.
"And God forgive me, but I now
have to feed my dog, "Stan.""

Stan the dog started sniffing,
And then started to nibble.
The man said, "I'm sorry but
I'm too broke to buy kibbles!"

Actual said "Who's that guy
That dog's eating, I can't see!"
He looked closer and saw,
An Old Dead Acutal 3!!

Actual yelled "This is WRONG!
And it's making me SICK!
Maybe I'm dead,
But, why no respect??!!"

The ghost pointed out a window
and out there he spied
a funeral prosession
of a guy that had died.

People were crying.
With respectful boo hoo's!
He heard everyone saying,
"He was my friend, too!"

"He helped other people.
He was loyal to his friends!
He threw parties that seemed
like they never would end!"

"He was good to lost cats!
And he liked babys too!
And he'd always call us up
when we had the flu!"

Mr. Actual said "Hey!
That was old Mr. Brown!
He was voted by the people
"The Most Loved in Town!"

Just then Actual found
Himself in a morgue!
With a janitor cleaning up,
Who looked really bored.

The doctor came in and said,
"Help me open this big drawer."
It was Actual 3's body!
All covered in gore!

The Janitor said,
"Jeez! What happened to this So 'n So?"
"Trust me," said the doctor,
"You don't want to know."

With a flash, Actual found
Himself at his grave.
"Well at least," he said,
Some of me has been saved!"

Just then some kids
With there hair full of spikes
Stopped at Actual 3's grave,
"This is it!" said punker Mike.

They started to dig,
Mike said "This is neat!"
With this dead body,
My Halloween party's complete!"

"Enough! Please please stop!"
Actual 3, he did wail.
I give up, ghost! You win!
My life has been stale!"

"But tell me," he said,
"Is this how it MUST be?
Is there any hope for amends
For poor Actual 3?"

"Just give me a chance!
I'll change, that's for certain!
I'll be braver with people!
And I'll help them stop hurtin!"

"I swear upon God!
That's right! I said it!
I don't know my bible,
but now it's high time I read it!"

"Instead of saying the bibles wrong,
I'll spend all my nights
Trying to figure out
Why the Jesus was RIGHT!"

Actual 3 buryed his head
into his hands,
And when he looked up,
Things were as they began!

He was back in his room!
All safe and sound!
But the memories of that night
in his head span around!

He yelled to himself,
"It's still Christmas Morn!"
Mr Actual was smiling
Like he'd just been reborn!

He ran out on the street
and into a store
And bought a fresh Turkey
As big as a door!

And to a homeless shelter
Actual 3 carried the bird,
and left it on the doorstep
then left without a word!

And when he walked home,
He heard a little meow!
He looked in a bag,
And said "Well well, now!"

It was a wet little kitten!
Who was down on his luck!
He'd walked into a bag,
And there he got stuck!

"I guess you are lost.
"Or maybe unwanted."
said Actual to the Kitten,
who looked cold, tired, and taunted.

"You're going home with me!"
Said Mr. Actual with a grab,
"You remind me of a friend
That I used to have!"

And it's said that Mr. Actual
Never changed from that way.
He was the Grand Keeper of Christmas,
All 365 days!


Short Title: MSPubCertExamMCSE1

From: Frisbee® MCNGP (
Subject: OT: Twas the night before Christmas 
Newsgroups: microsoft.public.cert.exam.mcse
Date: 2002-12-24 08:45:40 PST 

Twas the night before Christmas
  and all through the list
Not an MCNGP was posting
  Most of them were pissed.

Network Guru in his nightgown
  and Steve-O in his pumps
Had just settled down
  to share some brain dumps

When suddenly on the list 
  there arose such a clatter  
that we all logged at once
  to see what was the matter.

We scanned the new posts
  no OT's found for a gamer
Mostly trolls from Tom,
  our latest Lamer.

When what to our wondering eyes 
  did we see
But Consultant 
  and several other MCNGP

"I'm in a good mood, 
   so I'll not start a flame."
And then he began chanting,
  calling them all by name.

"On Keyboard, On Mean,
  On Frisbee and Sue"
"That's NOT what I meant, Frisbee,
  You know what to do!"

"On Rob, On Glenn, 
  and Diamond Jim"
"Can't find Batman,
  anyone seen him?"

"On Angry, On MCSENada,
  and Sweet Michelle"
"She's a babe, for sure...
  Can't you tell?"

"On Don Julio, come on now,
  On JYTC"
"On Laura, the animatron,
  our secret fantasy."

"To the top of the list,
  reply to that post"
"Let's see who can quote
  obscure movies the most"

The whole group together
  can be quite a sight
Merry Christmas to all
  We're too tired to fight.

Fris "My brain hurts" bee  MCNGP #13


Short Title: MSPubCertExamMCSE2

From: KennyG (
Subject: OT: I'm a poet but you wouldn't know it 
Newsgroups: microsoft.public.cert.exam.mcse
Date: 2003-12-09 14:35:55 PST 

'Twas the night before Test Day, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except for a mouse;
The Internet sites were being searched with great care,
In hopes that answers soon would be there;

The candidates then nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of 900's danced in their heads;
The braindump sites had all promised a pass,
They were sure to land a job and get lots of cash,

When out of the newsgroups there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the monitor to see what was the matter.
Away to the keyboard I flew like a flash,
Opened outlook express (hoping it didn't crash).

I looked at the newsgroup, at each little line
Everything seemed calm, really just fine
When, what to my watering eyes should appear,
But a thousand new posts, I almost dropped my new beer,

It was a little old man, so mean and so bold,
I knew in a moment it was the one foretold,
More rapid than cable his legions they came,
And he rallied, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Consultant! now, Frisbee! Now, Kendal and Brat!
On, Politician Spock! on Jtyc! On, Ken and all that!
To the top of the newsgroup! Head my momentous call!
Now type away! Type away! Type away all!"

Like flames that leap in a raging wild fire west,
When they meet with a dumper they burned him in jest,
So up to the server the mockery flew,
You'll not get certified and our respect too.

The torrents continued all though the night
And then, in a twinkling, I saw a refreshing sight
The changing of minds, though only a few.
There is still much more work to do.

He sprang to his keyboard, to his team gave a cheer,
And away they all flew to go get a beer.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,


Matthew Monroe in Richland, WA

Last Modified January 7, 2007