Monday, December 24, 2007

Batty's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, in Flippism's house
Professor Batty was Blogging- I'm that cranky old louse.
My stockings were old, a hole-y mis-matched pair,
I was wearing my robe, while I sat in my chair.



My eldest had gone- to the end of the world,
with vistas of glaciers before him unfurled.
And the Weaver slept on, while still did I tap,
"I'll just stop for a minute, to fix a nite-cap."



I went down in the kitchen to take care of the matter,
"Whiskey or Brennivín?"- and I chose the latter.
I poured out a double, drank it in a flash,
"I'll only have two, to avoid getting smashed."



The booze in my belly gave me a warm glow
then my brain became woozy, surprisingly so.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.



"I better stop drinking, I better stop quick,
I'm thinking I'm seeing old jolly St. Nick."
I shut my eyes, but still the sight came,
and I whimpered and stuttered as I called them bad names:



"Now Dang it! I'm Loaded!
I'm Blotto, and Vexéd!
Oh Come on! Forget it!
I'm Dizzy, and Wretched!
To the top of the counter!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"



With dry heaves that come before purging begins,
I fell to the floor, bruising my shins.
So up to the bathroom I recklessly flew,
wracked with the shakes, to the porcelain loo.



And then, in a twinkling, the feeling did pass,
Shaking my head I said "It must have been gas!"
Under my breath I said "I must turn my life 'round,
for such drinking on Xmas I am such a clown!"



Then returning upstairs, I twisted my foot,
and cursed to myself "Das ich nicht gud!"
Just then the cat jumped high up on my back,
his sharp claws dug in as he made his attack.



My eyes-how they teared up! My back, oh how scary!
My skin began bleeding, blood-red like a cherry!
That cat took a swipe at my naked left ear,
and finally jumped off, scratching my rear.



Then my ankle he bit, with his needle-like teeth,
I reached for the wall but got a fist full of wreath.
"Drat that cat!" I exclaimed, as I fell into the tree
I could swear that that feline was laughing at me.



He was chubby and plump, and full of himself,
and I cried when I realized I'd bought him myself.
A mad gleam in his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know 'twas time I be off to bed.



I spoke not a word, but went straight to my lover,
took off my stockings, then turned down the covers.
And laying a finger beside my bloodied nose
which I dabbed with a tissue, I took off my clothes.



I sprang into bed, my spouse gave a whistle,
My body looked as if it had been beaten by thistles.
But then she exclaimed, 'ere I slept for the night...


"Happy Christmas honey, and who won the fight?!"


With my apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

By Professor Batty



2 Comments:

Blogger lab munkay said...

So. I take my favorite poet isn't coming over for some nog. Merry Christmas and sober New Year eh.


Blogger Rose said...

My Christmas is looking Most Excellent, comparatively speaking...
Very best wishes to you and the Weaver, and thanks for a year's worth of fun.

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