Skip to main content

Twas The Night Before Mikesmas - A Holiday Classic

It's that time of year again!

Will the jolly aging fat man with the white beard and incredibly cool new hat visit YOUR house this year? Better put out those donuts and beer...JUST IN CASE!!!!!!!!!!

And while you're waiting for the magic of Mikesmas...here's everyone's fave Mikemas classic...TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE MIKESMAS!

"Twas the night before Mikesmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even the cats;
The beercans were flung on the floor without care,
In hopes that a french maid soon would be there;
The cats were nestled all snug in the couch,
While each had visions of fricassied mouse;
some bimbo in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
were each taking turns giving the other the clap,
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 rain
Gave the lustre of Yuengling to objects near the drain,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a 94 Olds, and eight tiny cold beers,
With a little old driver, cute as a tyke,
I knew in a moment it must be Memphis Mike.
More rapid than eagles his curses they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called out crude names;
"Now listen here Fucker! now listen Y'ALL! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
To some crappy dive bar
The site of the ball!
And then I heard tinkling, up on the roof
Someone was pissing, some little goof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Memphis Mike came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of beers 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 beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a ciggie he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly 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 nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And drank all the beers; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his Olds, to my bimbo gave a whistle,
And away they flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Mikesmas to all, and to all a good-night."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Money Miser

I'm usually not one to suggest products or suggest against products...unless I think they're really fantastic or utter pieces of crap. Well I'm here to tell ya, the Money Miser Coin Sorter SUCKS ROTTING ZOMBIE ASS! I've always been frugal...but don't take that as cheap . I work hard for my money and I like to save when/where I can. For the past few years (which from 2007-2010 were really tight), I've always kept a jar on the kitchen table, and when I get home at night (or in the morning as is the case most days) I dump whatever pocket change I have into said jar. I'd usually cash it in at Ye Olde Coinstar machine just before payday...in case I needed gas, lunch money, or just a night on the town. I would usually amass $60 or per month this way. This past year has been pretty decent financially so around May, I switched to a bigger jar. I hadn't taken anything OUT of the jar since around April. Well, the jar finally got so full (and so heavy I co...

New Book! (and what comes next)

 My 1st print book now exists. What a strange way to put it. I've always enjoyed writing, even when I was a kid and it wasn't cool . Honestly, I never thought I'd do anything with it. It was just another outlet for all of the ideas banging around in my head. For decades, a lot of these thoughts became songs. Now I've returned to the simplicity of words. I write because I enjoy telling stories - pretty much the same with songwriting. The only difference is that now I don't have to go on a stage or into a recording studio. There I days I miss both, but who knows...maybe one day I'll do it all again. Writers write for different reasons. Some for acclaim or notoriety. Some for profit. Same as with music, painting, sculpting, acting - I think those goals are a matter of seeking validation. But for what? Doing what you enjoy is validation enough. For years I've written this blog. In some ways, it's the perfect medium for me. I do it, it's done, published, ...

FEEDING SERGEI

I've always got on well with gas station people. I can't really tell you why; maybe it goes back to my teenage years. I would often hang out at the Clark station, shooting the breeze, and smoking Marlboros or for a time, Lucky Strikes.  It probably started when a friend of the family started working there. He was my brothers' age, and sort of a big brother figure in some ways. Through him, I got to know the couple who owned and ran the franchise, and the other employees. Most importantly to me, it was a place I could hang out, smoke cigarettes, and people watch. The steady drip of customers and conversations always held my interest. A gas station is one of those places where, on a long enough timeline, you're going to meet everyone - and I did. Everyone had to stop for gas at some point. This was a time before gas stations began to focus on being convenience stores, although they already were, in a way. They were just more efficient. You could gas up the car, grab smoke...