’Tis the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a creature was sober—not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung with a bit of a sway,
’Cause Santa had sampled the sherry buffet.
He stumbled down chimneys with a hiccup and grin,
Leaving footprints of soot and the smell of cheap gin.
His hat sat askew, beard slightly off-kilter,
Ho-ho-ho slurred out through a peppermint filter.
He laughed at the reindeer, called Donner “my dude,”
Promised Vixen a raise, then forgot that he’d do’d.
He missed a few rooftops, left gifts in the snow,
Put socks in the freezer and cookies below.
But somehow by dawn, though the night was a blur,
Every child still woke up believing in him—sure.
For Christmas, it turns out, doesn’t need perfect grace,
Just a little bit of magic… and one jolly red face. 🎅🍷
Stake ID: Bosshallas