I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas!
Here’s a little ditty I’ve been working on the last few days. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it:

‘Twas the eve before Christmas and all through the house,
Little creatures were stirring, including a mouse;
The stockings were hung on the blank wall somewhere,
In hopes that St. Germain might find ‘em there;
The baby was nestled all snug in her bed-bed,
While visions of hunting danced in her head;
And daddy in his robe, and I in one white,
Had just settled in bed for another brisk night,
When out in the street there arose such a clutter,
I sprang from the bed to find what’s in the gutter.
Away to the front door, I staggered to see,
Unlocked the three door locks and cold wind hit me.
The street lamp reflection on snow covered ice
Gave the look of daytime to concrete quite nice.
When, what to my glazed over eyes should I see,
But a bright red taxi cab, and eight drunks in their pee.
With a fat smokey driver, all juiced on a whim,
I knew right away that it had to be him.
Faster than a bullet he honked his cab’s horn,
And he set down his cigar and yelled without scorn;
“Now, Slasher! Tiny Dancer! now, Gallop and Vixen!
On, Halley! On Eros! on, Wonder and Schlitzen!
To the top of the stoop! to the roof or the wall!
Now slash away! crash away! trash away all!”
As dead leaves fell after the wild turkey they drank
When they met with a road hump, the meter went blank,
So up to the stoop the passengers disband,
With the cab full of puke, and St. Germain empty hand.
And then, in a shiver, I heard from above,
The dancing and singing of each to speak of.
As I locked my three locks, and was heading to sleep,
Through the window bars he came all stinky and cheap.
He was dressed for the cold, from his hood to snow boots,
And his clothes were all filthy like all of his suits;
A bundle of cash he had stolen in his hand,
And he looked like a hustler but minus the grand.
His eyes — oh how bloodshot! his pimples were a lot!
His teeth were all missing, his nose dripping with snot!
His drool from the mouth was drawn up with a slurp,
And the beard on his chin smelled of a light beer burp;
The rest of his blunt he gummed in his mouth,
And the smoke wreathed his head like in the deep south;
He had a long face and a big beer gut belly,
That rippled when he laughed like a jar full of jelly.
He was stubby with a slump, a funny looking man,
And I laughed at him a lot just because I can;
A twinkle in his eye and a twitch of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had this guy to dread;
He spoke gibberish, but he needed to work,
He stuffed his face full; then started to lurk,
And laying his finger up inside his nose,
And flicking it out, to the window he goes;
He slipped to his cab, to the street gave a honk,
And away he did drive like any ol’ crazy drunk.
But I heard him mumble, ere he swerved out the way,
“Happy Christmas to me, and next time they will pay.”