Meyran Kraus

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'Twas The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

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 miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles 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!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with 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 - 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,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
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;

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,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight:
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Saint Nick And His Encounter With Reality

'Twas Yuletide, and in the estate in Bel-Air,
Not one person was working, not even au pairs.
The children watched violent shows in their room,
And Divorced Dad, downstairs, downed his scotch in a gloom,

When, out from the snow, jolly Santa appeared,
With that huge sack of toys and his glowing white beard.
He opened the window, then slipped in with charm,
Unaware that he triggered the silent alarm.

"Ho Ho Ho!", he told Dad, "Merry Christmas, my boy!
Can't Saint Nick have a cookie? He brought all of you toys!",
But the man didn't answer at all, and instead
Broke the bottle of whiskey on old Santa's head.

When Santa could finally open his eyes,
He was down at the precinct, where several guys
Searched his teeth with some flashlight, then shaved off his beard...
It was plain from his mugshot that Santa looked weird!

"Ho Ho Holdup!", the headline said when he was tried;
In the courtroom, glum Santa sat, handcuffed, and sighed.
With no earthly possession but toys, the old elf
Couldn't find a good lawyer - he defended himself.

Throughout the whole trial, he felt bitter and weak;
He was labelled a thief, so his chances looked bleak.
When his sentence was read, Santa's mouth opened wide:
For breaking and entering, six years inside!

He was whisked off to jail, where that red, puffy suit
Prompted inmates to hoot at him "Bitch!" or "Hey, fruit!",
But the worst thing of all - he was sharing his cell
With one creepy inmate named "Butt-Poking Mel".

The psycho approached him with his contraband knife,
Determined to make sheepish Santa his wife -
Then, just when it looked like the end of Kris Kringle,
He suddenly heard this familiar jingle.

With cheer in their hearts and a wag in their tails,
His reindeer had burst through the wall of the jail!
"Hoorah!", howled Santa Clause, laughing so hard
When Rudolph's sharp horns skewered two of the guards.

The joyous St. Nick then climbed into the sleigh,
Shouting "Follow me, men!" as he hastened away;
The killers escaped through the hole in the wall,
And were then promptly goaded by Santa's mad call:

"Now, Rifkin! Now, Malvo! Now, Seda! Now, Manson!
Now, Chapman and Berkowitz! Now, Testa and Hansen!
Attack! Kill them all!", he exclaimed, the fat fellow,
Then, flying quite high, he unleashed one last bellow:

"Farewell, skeptic humans! Father Christmas is pissed.
You are all under 'Naughty' this year on the list!
Oh, how flawed you've become, chasing money and boobs,
While sweetness and innocence went down the tubes.

You scream on the highway and fight at the mall...
Living life without pep is not worth it at all!
I'm off to plan war on your Earth with the elves.
Happy Holidays, douche bags, and go screw yourselves!"

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Updated: May 10, 2016


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