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The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when there was no dred

For not a creature was stirring, not even a red.

The bundles were hung by the window with care,

In hopes that Father Christmas would soon be there;

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of other's blood danced in their heads,

And Grian paused the code so we knew there was no trap,

As we all had just settled our swords for a short peaceful time's nap.

When out on the planes there arose such a clatter, I spring from by bed to see what was the matter,

Away from my bed I flew in a rush,

Tore open the door, hoping whoever it was I could crush.

The moon on the lap of the unexpected fallen show,

Made the world seem like it started to glow,

When, what to my wondering eyes, should appear,

But a miniature boat, and eight snail dogs that looked like such dears.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in the moment it just be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his snail dogs they came,

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

"Now! Gary, now! Znail, now! Bigshell and iSnail,

On! Snumbo, on! Dubsnail, on! LittleShell, and PearlSnail

To the top of the tree! Go up the wall!

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

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, and roar into the sky;

So up to the mountain-top the snail houses flew,

With the might of their helicopter hats, they carried all the weight too.

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The patter of paws, and the sliming of slime as they quickly move.

As I drew in my head, and was turning arround,

Bursts through the roof, Father Christmas came down:

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

And his closes were all covered with wood chips and soot.

A bundle of weapons was flung on his back,

And he looks like Etho looking through the bundles across his back:

His eyes—how they shined! His dimples so merry

Eyes shown with green, and his cheeks stained like berries;

His droll little mouth was drawn like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow,

The stump soul torch held tight in his teeth,

And the particles of it circled his head like a wreath,

He had a broad face, and a little round sack

That bounced when he laughed, shaking against his back.

He was big and strong, but a jolly old man

And I froze when I saw him pull out a pan.

With a twinkle in his eyes, and a shake of his head

Soon gave me a wink to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And fill'd all the chests, then turned with a smirk,

Laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He spring to his boat, and gave his team a whistle

And away they all flew like a phantom, like a missile.

Then I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight.

Merry Christmas to all, and while you don't fight,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

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