Thomas Nast’s 1880s interpretation of Santa Claus is in the public doman.

The Writer Who Saved Christmas

With apologies to Clement Clark Moore

Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,

not a keyboard was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the router with care,

in hopes that St. Nickolas soon would be there.

The folders were closed, the hard drive spun down,

while edits of grammar elves made not a sound.

Now Margy in jammies and I in my robe,

we’d just snuggled in, away from the cold.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.

Away to my desk I flew like a flash

Tore open the drawers, pen ready to dash.

When out my big window, I finally looked

I held in my hand a hardcover book.

And what to my bloodshot eyes should appear

but a shiny red sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

The man held the reigns, not lively not quick

I knew without doubt, he’d kidnapped St. Nick.

The reindeer they whinnied and pawed the new snow

You’d have to see it, to imagine the row.

More rapid than eagles, I ran to his aid

To save the ole elf, (and the cookies we made.)

I reached for their bells, the poor little beasts,

The kidnapper eyed them like fancy elk feast.

“Now Dasher, Now Dancer, Prancer and Vixen!

On Comet! On Cupid, On Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

A loop-de-loop do, away with you all!

And faster than you can imagine my dear,

The sleigh it turned over, he fell on his rear.

I grabbed the brown bag and opened the tie,

There he was! “Ho Santa Ho!” I shouted my cry.

And then in a twinkling he gave me a smile,

I’m sure you could see it for many a mile.

A hearty ho ho and he puffed on his pipe,

That tobaccy I tell you was awfully ripe!

The kidnapper sat up, all covered with snow

Santa, I tell you, just laughed ho ho ho ho.

He reached in the bag and pulled out some coal,

and tossed it to him, that naughty old soul.

Turning to me, I was awestruck I swear,

Not something that happens, no that’s pretty rare.

With a grin and a nod and voice like the wind

He patted my back. “Merry Christmas My Friend!”

And then in twinkling, he was up on the roof,

The reindeer were prancing and pawing with hoof

He jumped in the sleigh and with one final shout,

The sleigh and old Santa, eight reindeer flew out.

And there in the east, a bright star did shine,

It gladdened my heart and I knew it was time

To get back to work, to write some more words

It was surely no time, to be watching the birds.

And so to my friends, who in disbelief laugh

At the old cranky old writer who wrote this poor gaf.

To All I wish, to all this glad night,

A Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a Good Night!

God Bless Us Everyone.

Copyright © 2013 MJ Logan Writer All Rights Reserved

No republication without expressly written consent.