A Visit from St. Mouselas(a retelling of A Visit from St Nicholas)

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
except I, the mouse;

The stockings were hung
by the chimney with care;
Can’t wait ’til they find
my droppings in there;

The children were nestled
all snug in their beds;
I spared a few nuggets
For their sweet resting heads;

The wife had had some wine,
and the father some beer,
So near incapacitated
I had nothing to fear,

When out on the lawn
there arose such a clatter,
I scurried to the window
to see what was the matter.

The moon on the breast
Like a big piece of cheese,
The stink of the mold
Wafting in on the breeze,

When what to my
wondering eyes did appear,
An overweight drunk
In a fist fight with a deer,

That dirty old drunkard
Was so lively and quick,
To be beating up a reindeer
he was clearly a prick.

More rapid than eagles
his fistfalls they came,
And he whistled, and shouted,
and gave each punch a name:

“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!
When we’re done fighting,
you’ll be unrecognizable!”

Like leaves that before
the wild hurricane fly,
His fists were so furious
they rose into the sky;

So up to the rooftop
the battlers they flew
Wailing on each other,
Until both black and blue

And then, in a twinkling,
stumbling from the roof
In a puff of snow I saw
Four rigid upturned hoof.

As I drew in my head,
and was turning around,
Down the chimney came
the drunk crashing down.

He was dressed in garbage,
from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished
with ashes and soot;

A bundle of sacks
he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a hobo
opening the first empty pack.

His eyes—never waivered!
his scowl, dark and scary!
His cheeks, scarred by hoof marks
his nose a bloody cherry!

His rabid little mouth
foamed like driven snow,
And the beard on his chin
Had a filthy pee stained glow;

Little stumps of black pipe
is how I would describe his teeth,
And a swarm of flies,
encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a swollen face
and an obscene belly
He shook, he laughed,
then vomited a chunky jelly.

Overweight and strung out
Clearly in poor health,
I gasped when I saw him,
in spite of myself;

A thumb across his throat
and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know
And I was filled with sudden dread;

He spoke not a word,
but went straight to his work,
And stole all the stockings;
that damned grinchy jerk,

And laying his finger
aside of his nose,
And giving a nod,
up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh,
well, a shopping trolley with tinsel,
And away he fled
the rickety wheels giving a whistle.

But I heard him exclaim,
ere he rolled out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all,
and to all a good night!”

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Weekly Theme:

Christmas

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