Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the hangar
Not a creature was stirring, not even that eugenicist Margaret Sanger
The airplanes were grounded, none in the air
St. Nick needs free airspace, he’s no time to spare.
The pilots were nestled, all snug in their beds
They slept with their headsets, glued to their heads
Mom went down early, 14 hour nap
Dad stayed up late, drinking from the tap.
When out on the lawn, arose such a clatter
Dad sprung from his bed, to first empty his bladder
When he was done, he checked on his cash
Santa the thief, made of with a dash
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
There ran Santa, but he’s fat and he’s slow
“Hey Santa you bum, get back over here!”
But off St. Nick went, riding his reindeer
“Why every year, do I lose cash to St. Nick”
Mom chimed in quickly, “it’s cuz you’re a prick”
Another weird Christmas, boy what a shame
The only solution, beat him at his own game
"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!"
Ironically Dad had named all his knives
He laughed on the inside, as they flew through the sky
One had struck Santa, right through the shoe
He lost hold of the toy bag, and downward it flew
“I did it I did it, I got him in the foot”
Falling through the chimney, the bag hit the soot
A bundle of toys he had lost from his back
Thanks to the precision, of Dad’s knife attack
His face filled with anger, he wasn’t so merry
He sprung from his slay, like that Olympian named Kerry
“What’s up now Santa, you just ate crow!”
Santa looked pained, shoeless in the snow
He snarled and he grunted, he grinded his teeth
He pulled out a knife, and looked at a wreathe
He gave it a toss, it flew through the sky
It went through the wreathe, what a bulls-eye!
Santa explained that he through knives in Nam
He reached out his hand, and I grasped his palm
He said he respected the skills Dad had shown
The pitch in his voice took a friendlier tone
“Let bygone’s be bygone” said Santa to Dad
With those merry words, Dad stopped being mad
I heard him exclaim, as he flew out of sight
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night”