T’was the night before Christmas

by Laurie Bus

T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the yard

Not a creature was stirring, not even a security guard;

The stockings were hung by the buses with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The buses were nestled all snug in their lanes,

While visions of summer beaches swirled in their brains;

And Lily in her kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long Christmas nap,

When outside the workshop there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bay to see what was the matter.

Away up the ramp I flew in a wink,

Turned on my headlights and halted with a blink.

The moon shimmering high across the depot below,

Gave the lustre of mid-day to the buses on show.

When, what to my wondering eyes should come into view,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny kangaroos,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than the M1 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 yard! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the summer storm fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the workshop the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard before I saw,

The hopping and scratching of each little paw.

As I dimmed my lights, and turned around,

Down through the yard St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed in his red boardies, and his short-sleeved vest,

And his flip flops, flapping as he went for his best.

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 beeped 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 to the roof 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 flew out of sight,

HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO LOGAN, AND TO LOGAN A GOOD-NIGHT!