K. Sterling

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Everyone was stirring, even the mouse; The stockings were hung but hearts were heavy with care. Fear not! Naughty St. Nicholas soon would be there. Our heroes are troubled; restless in their beds; While taxes, deadlines and arguments swirled in their heads; A widower-depressed, two teachers-repressed, one couple-distressed, Settle into a cold evening; little hope for relief or rest, When in the living room there arose an almighty ruckus, They sprang from their beds to see what the fuss was. There by the tree stood a man like a tower, He’d come bearing gifts and a whole lot of swagger. The moon caught in his beard and his eyes twinkled like new-fallen snow, And sent a tingle and warmth to their nethers below, When what to their boggling eyes did appear, A gent as swift and randy as his eight reindeer, With a feisty old driver so lively and thick, They knew in a moment they’d be banging St. Nick. More rapid than eagles to his thrusts they came, And he licked, and shouted, and called them by name.