'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 passed out in front of the telly
While millions of sugary things fizzed in their belly
And this little Listian, all cosy and snug
Had just settled down for a glass of egg nog
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter
Away to the window I leapt like a frog
Tore open the shutters - and threw up my nog
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
(What a lyrical phrase! - it's not mine, you know!)
When what should I see crashing into the bins
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny goblins
With a beautiful driver, so charming and fey
I knew it was Jareth himself on the sleigh
More clumsy than Ludo, his goblins they came
And he whipped them, and shouted, and called them by name
"Now, Smeghead! Now, Tosspot! Now, Cowpat and Honker!
On, Ratarse! On, Legless! On, Drongo and Plonker!
To the top of the porch! Past the old garden shed!
Now get a move on, or you'll wish you were dead!"
As young children called in with reluctance from play
With their moans of annoyance, regret and dismay
So up to the housetop the goblins they crawled
With the sleigh full of sacks, and Jareth, and all
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
The scraping and thumping of each little boot
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around
Down the chimney the Goblin King came with a bound
He was dressed to the nines, from his head to his foot
Though his hair had got covered with ashes and soot
(A mullet like that just won't fit in a hood!)
And he looked like a goblin who's up to no good
His eyes - how they twinkled! One blue and one brown!
His nose slightly beaky, his hair soft as down
His dangerous mouth was drawn up in a grin
And the look on his face was an invite to sin
The strap of a whip he had hooked round his wrist
And the glitter encircled his head like a mist
He had on his boots made of shiny black leather
And the less said about Jareth's crystals, the better!
He was gorgeous and bad, a right devious old elf
And I drooled when I saw him, in spite of myself
A wink of his eye, that tiniest of signs
Soon gave me to know he had mischief in mind
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And stole all the stockings! then turned with a smirk
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And blowing a kiss, up the chimney he rose
He sprang to his sleigh and he whipped them all well
And away they all flew, like a bat out of hell
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all - kiss my tights!"
Back to Main Page