‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town,
Not a creature was stirring, save one sad clown.
He wandered the streets of his hometown with care,
Wondering if St. Nicholas soon would be there.
He went to one bar and dive after the other,
And drank his weight twice with his dead girlfriend’s brother.
His liver did heave a bit and gave him a warning,
Saying “Stop it right now, lest you’re dead in the morning. “
The sad clown did listen, a tear from his eye,
Did fall to the ground with the glint of the sky.
Way off in the distance a fair shining light,
Did come much, much closer on that wintry night.
A large painted sleigh came forth and was charging
Like comets bound earthward and brilliantly starting
To make known their presence through light and through song,
Glancing us upward at bright heavens throng.
With skilled hand both steady and sure in its grip,
Old Santa did guide his sleigh, and none did he trip
On a journey so long and so carefully planned
Down to the last detail ‘ere summer began.
The sad clown was staring and wetting his pants
As fate and as chance and pure happenstance
Did lead to a moment both grand and so bold,
To see Santa and reindeer make way through the cold.
Down through the atmosphere, downward he flew,
All nine of his reindeer, tails all sorts of blue
Downward he came to the clown’s great delight.
Downward he flew on that cold DC night.
And Santa came up to the poor sodden clown,
Looked with compassion at the long pickled frown.
And said “It’s time for this, it’s time tonight. “
The sad clown did pull his first sober hit,
Remembering why he likes all of that shit.
His brain, euphoric, danced as on cue,
His beer belly shrank, revealing his shoes…
He looked with amazement at the sleigh as it left,
Taking a moment to catch his short breath,
He raised the pen skyward, and to his delight,
Heard Santa sound off, wishing all a good night.
-Iris Weston ©
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