Twas The Night…
By Ivette Ricco, with apologies
to Clement C. Moore

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Dennis Erickson's house
Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. York soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Super Bowls danced in their heads.
And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my Niners cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Gave the luster of end zone touchdowns below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Mercedes Benz and eight burly reindeer.
With a short little driver, not lively or quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. York (ok you know what rhymes with quick)
More rapid then Pass Rushers his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now Rattay, now Dorsey, now Barlow and Hicks! On Peterson, on Young,
on Wilson and Woods.
To the top of the division, to the top of the league!
Now bash em , bash em, bash em all!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the stadium top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of dough, and St. York was full of it too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each player's hoof
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. York came with a bound.
He was dressed all in mink, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot
A bundle of cash he had flung on his back
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack
His eyes..how they twinkled..his dimples how merry
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
And the leer on his face was as cold as the snow
The stump of a stoogie he held tight in his teeth
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath
He had a broad, flat face, and a round little belly
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly
He was chubby and plump, a right snotty old elf
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And filled all the stockings, just to show he's a first class jerk
And laying his finger not aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose
He sprang to his Benz, to his team gave a whistle
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight
"Your pink slip's arrived, and to ya'll a good night"
Hee, hee, hee

Ivette Ricco
President

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