FanPost

Joyeuses Fêtes

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Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house



Not a creature was stirring, apart from Blakie doing roundabouts;



The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,



Impaled to the mantel by Wilson’s cold, icy stare;



The boys were nestled all snug in their beds,



While visions of Stanley cups danced in their heads;



And mamma, dressed 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 gondola I flew like a flash,



Tore open the shutters and threw out my stash.



The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow



Gave the luster of mid-day to the boys playing below,



When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,



But a miniature sleigh, and trade bait with beer,



With a little old captain, so lively and quick,



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



More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,



And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;



"Now, Pony! Now, Schendel! Now, Antro and Frogenthor!



On, Kulemin! on Finger and Moustache! On Dominic Moore!



To the front of the net! Crush all those found along the wall!

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



As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,



When they meet with an Crosby, they just make him cry,



So up to playoff contention the coursers they flew,



With the sleigh full of puck-moving defensemen, and Pogge too.



And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the grate



The prancing and pawing of each little skate.



As I drew plays in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Burke came with a bound.



He was dressed all in duck fur, from his head to his foot,



And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;



A sac full of dreams 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 berry!



His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smile,



And his plans allowed us to all forget about Mats and Kyle;



The stump of a stick he held tight in his teeth,



And the ice chips encircled his head like a wreath;



He had a broad face and a big 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 at that belly full ‘o draft choices, 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 towards Cherry the jerk,



And flipping him the 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."

And as the Baby Jesus said, "It's just a game for fuck sakes, channel the energy of your anger towards the resolution of more pressing problems in the world."

PensionPlanPuppets.com is a fan community that allows members to post their own thoughts and opinions on the Toronto Maple Leafs and hockey in general. These views and thoughts may not be shared by the editor of PensionPlanPuppets.com.

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