Twas the night before Christmas, at the cabin on the lake
The only creature stirring was Margo beginning to bake.
The stocking were hung by the stove pipe with care
In hopes they’d dry out before day would be there.
The mice were all snug in their tiny little beds
While visions of cookie crumbs danced in their heads.
And Margo in her apron, while I took a nap,
Had just started mixing some fresh ginger snaps.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains and scraped frost off the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a grizzled old buck, a huge white-tail deer.
He made not a sound, but went straight to his work,
And emptied all the feeders, then turned with a jerk.
And giving a snort from way too much greed,
Bucked trash can over and spilled all the seed.
He ate forty dollars worth of fancy bird food,
Then turned to the feeders in a dangerous mood.
And knocked them about and then to the ground
And stomped them to pieces with nary a sound.
He searched all about for any more plunder,
While I yelled curses and hollered like thunder.
I opened the door and gave a sharp whistle,
As he headed towards my bucket of thistle.
He chomped it all down, with hardly a pause,
Then turned to examine my air filled Claus.
With sharp pointed antlers, he gave it a poke,
And down went Santa, air spewing like smoke.
I took out my gun, and shot high over head
To to scare him away with a hail of lead.
He looked all about, to find more to eat
But nothing was left, so he made his retreat.
As he walked slowly off, he turned back his head,
And I read in his eye; it gave me much to dread.
“I’ll be back real soon,” ere he went out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to you and to all a good night.”
