12-24-2011, 06:29 PM
Twas The Night Before Christmas Poem
Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru the cabin
Not a joke was worth tellin, nobody was clappin.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The hound dogs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of burglars danced in their heads.
And mamma in her nightgown, which got me a slap,
Had just settled our argument over her brother the sap.
When out in the forest there arose such a clatter,
I sprang for my shotgun with a shot it would scatter.
A shot thru the glass and boy what a flash,
Next time I'll remember to throw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Reminded me of momma but the answer was no.
When, what should appear and who would have thought,
But a miniture sleigh, filled with 8 great big trout.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment and it made me so sick.
The brown trout were spawning, night fishing the game
And he whistled, and shouted, and called me by name!
The sorry old goat,
Had come by to gloat.
But tomorrow night I'll be ready,
To go fishin with Freddy.
Socialism is for the people, not the socialist. You don't think they would subject themselves or their families to the wonderful things they do for us...do you?