Thread: " 'Twas The Night Before Christmas" (nontraditional ) Collection ...

Jolie...if you can find A Cajun Night Before Christmas, please post it. DS loved it when he was little. The only thing I remember about it is an alligator named Gaston. I haven't been able to find a site with it.

~ Cajun Night Before Christmas ~

'Twas the night before Christmas
An' all t'ru the house
Dey don't a t'ing pass
Not even a mouse.


De chirren been nezzle
Good snug on the flo'
An' Moma pass the pepper
T'ru the crack on de do'.


Den Moma in de fireplace
Done roas' up de ham
Stir up the gumbo
An' make bake de yam.


Den out on the by-you
Dey got such a clatter
Make sound' like old Boudreau
Done fall off the ladder.


I run like a rabbit
To got to de do'
An' fall on de flo' !!
As I look out de do'

In de light of de moon
I t'ink "Manh, you crazy
Or got ol' too soon.

Cuz dere on the by-you
W'en I stretch ma' neck stiff
Dere's eight alligators
A pulling a skiff.


An' a little fat drover
Wit' a long pole-ing stick
I know r'at away
Got to be ole St. Nick.


Mo' fas'er an' fas'er
De 'gator dey came
He whistle an' holler
An' call dem by name:


"Ha, Gaston!
Ha, Teboy!
Ha, Pierre an' Alcee!
Gee, Suzette!
Celeste an' Renee!

"To de top of de porch
To de top of de wall
Make crawl, alligator,
An' be sho' you don' fall."


Like Tante Flo's cat
T'ru de treetop he fly
W'en de big ole houn' dawg
Come a run hisse'f by.


Like dat up the porch
Dem ole 'gatores clim
Wit' de skiff full of toy
An' St. Nick behin'.


Den on top de porch roof
It soun' like de hail
W'en all dem big 'gator
Done sot down dey tail.


Den down de chimmy
I yell wit' a bam
An' St. Nicklus fall
An' sit on de yam.


"Sacre!!" he axclaim
"Ma pant got a hole
I done sot ma'se'f
On dem red hot coal."


He got on his foots
An' jump like a cat
Out to de flo'
Where he lan' wit' a Splat!!!


He was dress in musk-rat
From his head to his foot
An' his clothes is all dirty
Wit' ashes and soot.


A sack full of playt'ing
He t'row on his back
He look like a burglar
An' dass fo' a fack.


His eyes how dey shine
His dimple, how merry!
Maybe he been drink
De wine from blackberry.


His cheek was like a rose
His nose like a cherry
On secon' t'ough maybe
He lap up de sherry.


Wit' snow-white whisker
An' quiverin' belly
He shook w'en he laugh
Like de stromberry jelly!


But a wink in his eye
An' a shook of his head
Make me confi-dence dat
I don' got to be scared.


He don' do no talking
Gone straight to his work
Put playt'ing in sock
An' den turn wit' a jerk.


He put bot' his han'
Dere on top of his head
Cas' an eye on the chimmey
An' den he done said.


]"Wit' all of dat fire
An' dem burnin' hot flame
Me I ain't going back
By de way dat I came."


So he run out de do'
An' he clim' to de roof
He ain't no fool, him
For to make one more goof.


He jump in his skiff
An' crack his big whip
De 'gator move down
An' don' make one slip.


An' I hear him shout loud
As a splashin' he go

"Merry Christmas to all
"Til I see you some mo!"



By "Trosclair"

This story won a Clio Award in 1967
from the Academy of Television and Radio Advertising.

{{fatesfaery}}

Cajun Twelve Days of Christmas

Day - 1

Dear Boudreaux,
Tanks for da bird in da Pear tree. I fix it las' night with dirty rice. I doan tink da pear tree will grow in da swamp, so I swap it for a Satsuma.

Day - 2

Dear Boudreaux,
Your letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny pigeon. Anyway, I mix dem with andouille (Cajun sausage) and made some gumbo out of dem.

Day - 3

Dear Boudreaux,
Why doan you sent some crawfish. I tired of eating dem damn birds. I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie Trahan over at Grans Bayou and fed da tird one to my dog, Phideaux. Marie needed some sparring partners for her fighting rooster.

Day - 4

Dear Boudreaux,
Mon Dieux! (My God) I tole you no more friggin birds. Deez four, what you call dem, "calling birds" was so noisy you could hear dem all da way to Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps, and fed da rest of dem to da gators.

Day - 5

Dear Boudreaux,
You finally sent someting useful. I like dem golden rings, me. I hocked dem at da pawn shop in Thibodeaux and got enuf money to fix da shaft on my shrimp boat and buy a round for da boys at da Raisin' Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup! (Thanks Much)

Day - 6

Dear Boudreaux,
Couchon! (Pig!) Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor egg suckin' Phideaux is scared to death at dem six geeses. He tried to eat dems eggs and dey peck da heck out ah his snout. Dey good at eating cockroaches, dough. I may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Christmas day.

Day - 7

Dear Boudreaux,
I gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. T' fi boutan! (Kiss my ass!) Thibeau, da mailman, is ready to kill you dead. Da merde (crap) from all dem birds is stinkin' up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and sue him good. I let dose seven swans loose to swim on da bayou and some duck hunters from Mississippi blasted dem out of da water. Talk at you tomorrow.

Day - 8

Dear Boudreaux,
Poor ole Thibeau had to make tree trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids a milkin and dere cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da gators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me no. I tolt dem to get to work guttin fish and sweeping the shack but dey say it was no in dere contract. Dey probably tink dey to good ta skin da nutrias (Bayou Rat) I caught las night too.

Day - 9

Dear Boudreaux,
What you trying to do, huh? Thibeau had to borrow the Lutcher ferry to carry dem jumpin twits you call Lords-a-Leaping 'cross the bayou. As soon as dey gots here dey wanted a tea break wit crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, "Well La Di Da. You get Chic'ry coffee or nuttin." Mon Dieu, Emile. What I'm gonna feed all dese bozos? Dey too snooty for fried nutria, and da cows ate my turnip greens.

Day - 10

Dear Boudreaux,
You got to be out of your mind! If da mailman don't kill you, I will for sure. Today he delivered 10 half nakid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said dey be "Ladies Dancin" but dey doan act like ladies in front of dem Limey twits. Dey almost left after one of dem got bit by a water moccasin over by my out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde (everybody) and get toilet paper. Da Sears catalog was no good enuf for dose hoity-toity lord's royal behinds.

Day - 11

Dear Boudreaux,
Where Y'at. Cheerio and pip pip. Your 11 pipers piping arrive today from da House of Blues, second lining as dey got off da boat. We fix snuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey and we be having a fais-do-do (Dance). Da new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniels and he having a good time dancing with da floozies. Da old mailman jumped off of da Sunshine Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious, ticking package in da mail, doan open it.

Day - 12

Dear Boudreaux,
I sorry to tell you but I am not your true love no more. After da fais-do-do, I spent da night with Jacques, da head piper. We decided to open a restaurant and gentleman's club on da bayou. Da floozies, pardon me, "ladies dancing", can make $20 for a table dance, and da lords can be waiters and valet park da boats. Since da maids have no more cows to milk, I trained dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, and run my shrimping business. We be probably grossing a million dollars next year finis

Joyeaux Noel
May Papa Noel follow the bonfires
and find your homes on Christmas Eve!

`Twas Da Night Befo` Christmas



Twas da night befo' Christmas and all in the hood
Not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good
The tube socks was hung on the window sill
and we all had smiles up on our grill

Mookie and BeBe was snug in the crib
in the back bedroom cuz that's how we live
and moms in her do-rag and me with my nine
had just gotten busy cuz girlfriend is fine

All of a sudden a lowrider rolled by
Bumpin phat beats cuz the system's fly
I bounced to the window at a quarter pas'
Bout ready to pop a cap in somebody's--
well anyway

I yelled to my lady, Yo peep this!
She said, Stop frontin just mind yo' bidness
I said, for real doe, come check dis out
We weren't even buggin, no worries, no doubt

Cuz bumpin an thumpin' from around da way
Was Santa, 8 reindeer and a sleigh
Da beats was kickin, da ride was phat
I said, Yo red Dawg, you all that!

He threw up a sign and yelled to his boyz,
"Ay yo, give it up, let's make some noise!
To the top of the projects and across the strip mall,
We gots ta go, I got a booty call!"

He pulled up his ride on the top a da roof
and sippin on a 40, he busted a move
I yelled up to Santa, "Yo ain't got no stack!"
he said, "Damn homie, deese projects is wack!

But don't worry black, cuz I gots da skillz
I learnt back when I hadda pay da billz."
Out from his bag he pulled 3 small tings
a credit card, a knife, and a bobby pin.

he slid down the fire escape smoove as a cat
and busted the window with a b-ball bat
I said, "Whassup, Santa? Whydya bust my place?"
he said,"You best get on up out my face!"

His threads was all leatha, his chains was all gold
His sneaks was Puma and they was 5 years old
He dropped down the duffle, Clippers logo on the side
Santa broke out da loot and my mouf popped open wide.

A wink of his eye and a shine off his god toof
He cabbage patched his way back onto the roof
He jumped in his hooptie with rims made of chrome
To tap that booty waitin at home

and all I heard as he cruised outta sight
was a loud and hearty.....
"WEEESST SIIIIDE!!!!!!!"


www.joel.net/EBONICS/christmas.asp

[center]YUPPIE CHRISTMAS...

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru' the condo,
Not a creature was stirring whose car had known Bondo.
The Gucci's were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that the neighbors would notice them there.
The dependents were nestled, all snug in their beds
While Porsches and charge accounts danced in their heads
And my dove and I, watching T.V. cable stations
Had just settled down to three weeks paid vacation.
When out in the drive there arose such a clamor
My wife lost her place in a story in Glamour.
To the window I had the man run, like a flash
To make sure it was garbage men taking the trash.
But he said, "It's a lawyer, sir, parking his car.
I fear it's a Jetta, and in THIS front yard!
Shall I sound the alarm?" "Yes, don't let him inside!
My ex must want more alimony," I cried.
But though servants locked windows and barred the front door,
Our defense was as loose as a two-dollar bore.
For just as back in the Jacuzzi I stepped,
A soot-suited man from the fireplace lept.
"I flew down the flue," he informed, and I sighed.
"That sure puts a damper on things," I replied
He was dressed in a suit, with three pieces and tie,
But I saw he'd forgotten to zip up his fly.
He had a long nose that resembled a dork,
And his beady eyes begged to be poked with a fork.
With only these words, "You poor Ivy-leagued jerk!
This isn't your day!" he went straight to his work.
Beneath the aluminum tree he did crouch,
And took all of our presents to put in his pouch.
The TV's and stereos, jewelry and clothes,
All went into his Hefty, and then he arose.
He crossed the fireplace, turning his back...
And emptied our stockings out into the sack.
But just as I thought that was all I would lose,
He went to the kitchen and drank all my booze.
Then he dumped all our silverware into the bag,
And added the new VCR to his swag.
Our Waterford crystal, our Tiffany lamps,
My son's Telecaster and thousand-watt amps,
My Princeton diploma was yanked off the wall
And twenty sports jackets from out in the hall.
My antique collection, the wife's diamond rings,
He ransacked the house and took all of our things!
But when he had stacked all the bags by the door,
Well, I brought our my Doberman and said "Listen you boor!
You've invaded our privacy - I know the law!
KILL, Charger, KILL!" But the lawyer guffawed,
And laying a finger aside of his nose
Gave a honk, and blew snot - all over my clothes.
He grabbed a dry breadstick and took my dog's life,
Then ran to the bedroom and ravished my wife!
Now, I really was peeved! "Sir, I'll see you in court!
You can't do such things to collect non-support!"
But he laughed, "Non-support?" as he got off my spouse.
"Tomorrow they're coming to take down your house.
And soon the policemen will drag you away.
Your own Uncle Sam's repossessing today!"
"You mean you aren't my ex-wife's attorney?"
I asked, while he loaded my gold Lamborghini.
He laughed as he dashed away into the night,
And tossed a bottle which broke my porch light.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Man, your wife was an awful fright.

[center]The X-FILES Christmas Case
author unknown

"We're too late! It's already been here."

"Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing."

"Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care."

"You really think someone's been here?"

"Someone or some THING."

"Mulder, over here - it's a fruitcake."

"Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal."

"It's O.K. There's a note attached: 'Gonna find out who's naughty and nice.'"

"It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite."

"But that's legend, Mulder -- a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely you don't believe it?"

"Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive -- and in a hurry."

"It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained."

"It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse."

"But why would they leave it milk and cookies?"

"Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding."

"But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry."

"Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace."

"Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get down there."

"But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?"

"You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?"

"Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father."

"Impossible."

"I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. IT KNEW THAT I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD!"

"I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you're saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files."

"Scully, listen to me: It knows when you're sleeping. It knows when you're awake."

"But we have no proof."

"Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red."

"But that was a meteor shower."

"Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody - not even the zookeeper - was told about it. The government doesn't want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night."

"Mulder, I --"

"Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear?"

"On the roof. It sounds like . . . a clatter."

"The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter."
[/center]

A Soldier's Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas,
he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house
made of plaster & stone.
I had come down the chimney
with presents to give
And to see just who
in this home did live.

I looked all about
a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents,
not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire,
just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures
of far distant lands.

With medals and badges,
awards of all kind
A sober thought
came through my mind.
For this house was different,
so dark and dreary,
I knew I had found the home of a soldier,
once I could see clearly.

I heard stories about them,
I had to see more
So I walked down the hall
and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping
silent, alone,
Curled up on the cot
in his one bedroom home.

His face so gentle,
his room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured
a United States soldier.
Was this the hero
of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho,
a cot for his bed?

His head was clean shaven,
his weathered face tan,
I soon understood
this was more than a man.
For I realized the families
that I saw that night
Owed their lives to these men
who were willing to fight.

Soon ‘round the world,
the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate
on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom
each month of the year,
Because of soldiers
like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder
how many lay alone
On a cold Christmas Eve
in a land far from home.
Just the very thought
brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees
and started to cry.

The soldier awakened
and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don’t cry,
this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom,
I don’t ask for more,
my life is my God,
my country,
my Corps."

With that he rolled over
and drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it,
I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours,
so silent and still,
I noticed he shivered
from the cold night’s chill.

So I took off my jacket,
the one made of red,
And I covered this Soldier
from his toes to his head.
And I put on his T-shirt
of gray and black,
With an eagle and an patch
embroidered on back.

And although it barely fit me,
I began to swell with pride,
And for a shining moment,
I was United States Marine
deep inside.
I didn’t want to leave him
on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor
so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over,
whispered with a voice so clean and pure,
"Carry on Santa,
it’s Christmas Day, all is secure."

One look at my watch,
and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend,
and to all a good night!

James M. Schmidt, who was a Lance Corporal stationed in Washington, D.C., when he wrote the poem back in 1986 and was published in Leatherneck (Magazine of the Marines) in December 1991,

An Attorney's 'Twas the Night Before Christmas

Whereas, on an occasion immediately
preceding the Nativity festival,
throughout a certain dwelling unit,
quiet descended, in which could be heard
no disturbance, not even the sound
emitted by a diminutive rodent related
to, and in form resembling, a rat; and

Whereas, the offspring of the
occupants had affixed their tubular,
closely knit coverings for the nether
limbs to the flue of the fireplace in
expectation that a personage known as
St.Nicholas would arrive; and

Whereas, said offspring had become
somnolent, and were entertaining re:
saccharine-flavored fruit; and

Whereas, the adult male of the
family, et ux, attired in proper
headgear, had also become quiescent in
anticipation of nocturnal inertia; and

Whereas, a distraction on the snowy
acreage outside aroused the owner to
investigate; and

Whereas, he perceived in a most
unbelieving manner a vehicle propelled
by eight domesticated quadrapeds of a
species found in artic regions; and

Whereas, a most odd rotund gentleman
was entreating the aforesaid animals by
their appellations, as follows:

"Your immediate co-operation is
requested. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and
Vixen; and collective action by you will
be much appreciated, Comet, Cupid,
Donder, and Blitzen"; and

Whereas, subsequent to the above,
there occurred a swift descent to the
hearth by the aforementioned gentleman,
where he proceeded to deposit gratuities
in the aforementioned tubular coverings.

Now, therefore, be ye advised:
that upon completion of these acts,
and upon his return to his original
point of departure, he proclaimed
a felicitation of the type prevalent
and suitable to these occasions, ie:

Merry Christmas to All
and to All a Good Night!

Congress' Night Before Christmas

"Twas the week before Christmas and those sly little elves,
Our congressmen, labored to better themselves.
They cared not a whit what the public might think
"Let them eat cake," some said with a wink.

And putting their thumbs to the tip of their nose,
they waved as they shouted "Anything goes!"

They scoffed at the thought that we might object,
to a tax cut for the wealthy of a posh percent.
They've got prerequisites-franking, per diem, and more --
bargain-priced haircuts and gyms (three or four!)

Paid speaking engagements and meals on the cuff,
celebrity status -- (they've sure got it tough!),

Yet they claim they're in touch with the man on the street,
as John Q. Public struggles to make both ends meet.
If all workers decided what they were due,
they'd be getting those fat paychecks too!

But while we take cutbacks or raises quite small,
and one out of 20 has no job at all,
our millionaire Congress decides on the budget
land trimming Medicare and Medicaid will do it, they say.

In this season for giving, our Congress is taking.
We've had it with them and our backs are breaking.
With hard times, disasters, and layoffs on our dockets,
we bit the bullet and they fill their pockets!


Oh jobless, oh homeless, oh desperate and needy -
dare anyone say our Congress is greedy?

If in this feeling I'm not alone,
take up your pen or pick up your phone.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
let the road of your anger mount to the sky.

Indignant, outraged, appalled and beset
let your congressman know that you won't forget!
When election times comes -- and certain it will --
you're voting him out for passing that bill.


More rapid than eagles, their elections assured
they toasted each other and laughed at the herd.
And I heard them exclaim with adjournment at hand,

"Merry Christmas to us,
and the public (and Federal workers) be bammed!

StarTrek :The Next Generation NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the arm'ry securely,
In hope that no aliens would get up early.

The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks);
And Picard in his nightshirt and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face-to-face.

When out in the halls there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pants and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly, "Deck One!"

The bridge Red-Alert lights, which flashed through the din,
Gave a luster of Hades to objects within.
When, what, on the viewscreen, should our eyes behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some geek who looked old.

But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew,
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew larger as closer he came.
Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name;

"It's Riker! It's Data! It's Worf and Jean-Luc!
It's Geordi! And Wesley, the genetic fluke!
To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall!
Now float away, float away, float away all!"

As leaves in autumn are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from our feet,
And up the ceiling our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out, "What the hell is this Q?!"

The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin,
And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again.
As we took in our plight and were looking around,
The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.

The Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe,
Appeared once again to continue the show.
"That's enough!" cried the captain, "You'll stop this at once!"
And Riker said, "Worf! Take your aim at this dunce!"

"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc," replied Q.
"I just wanted to spend Christmas with you."
As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack.
He dumped out the contents, and took a step back.

"I've brought gifts," he said, "just to show I'm sincere.
There's something delightful for everyone here."
He sat on the floor and dug into the pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile.

"For Counselor Troi, there's no need to explain,
Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf I've got mints as his breath's not too great,
And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.

For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-Plus:
For Data, a joke book; for Riker, a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie,
And for Jean-Luc, the thrill of seeing her that way."

Then he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face,
And, clapping his hands, disappeared into space.
But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight,

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!"

The Night before Christmas for MOMs

'Twas was the night before Christmas, when all thru the abode,
only one creature was stirring, and she was cleaning the commode.
The children were finally sleeping, all snug in their beds,
while visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie, flipped through their heads.

The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
with a half-constructed bicycle on his knee.
So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
which made her sigh, "Now what's the matter?"

With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
she descended the stairs, and saw the old man.
He was covered with ashes and soot, which fell with a shrug.
"Oh great," muttered the mom, "Now I have to clean the rug."

"Ho-ho-ho!" cried Santa, "I'm glad you're awake."
"Your gift was especially difficult to make."
"Thanks, Santa, but all I want is some time alone."
"Exactly!" he chuckled, "I've made you a clone."

"A clone?" she asked, "What good is that?
Run along, Santa, I've no time for chit-chat."

The mother's twin. Same hair, same eyes,
same double chin. "She'll cook, she'll dust, "
she'll mop every mess. You'll relax, take it easy,
watch The Young & the Restless." "Fantastic!" the mom cheered.
"My dream come true! "I'll shop. I'll read., I'll sleep a whole night
through! "

From the room above, the youngest began to fret.
"Mommy?! I scared... and I 'm wet."

The clone replied, "I'm coming, sweetheart."
"Hey," the mom smiled, "She knows her part."
The clone changed the small one, and hummed a tune,
as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon.

"You the best mommy ever. " I really love you."
The clone smiled and sighed, "I love you, too."
The mom frowned and said, "Sorry, Santa, no deal. "
That's my child's love, she's trying to steal."

Smiling wisely Santa said, "To me it is clear, "
Only one loving mother, is needed here."

The mom kissed her child, and tucked her into bed.
"Thank you, Santa, " for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won't be very long,
when they'll be too old, for my cradle-song."

The clock on the mantle began to chime.
Santa whispered to the clone, "It works every time."
With the clone by his side Santa said,
"Goodnight....

Merry Christmas, Mom, You'll be all right.