‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the barrio, not a creature was stirring, not even drunk Mario.
Because in Bolivia they did it all early,
The Day before! Which made me quite surly.
The only kids ’round without any gifts,
still waiting for presents, ex-patriot twits.
The stockings weren’t hung by the chimney with care, And under the tree was also quite bare;
We knew Santa might skip us outright,
so we prayed for abundance all through the night.
The tree itself in a horrible state; additional tinsel might exacerbate,
the feeling that something just wasn’t right; it looked as though it had died mid-flight.
When out on the lawn there arose such a ding, made much worse since the walls were so thin,
Away to the window I flew like a flash, no curtains to open, likewise with sash.
We were lucky we had any glass at all, steel bars to the rescue in case we should fall.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, come to think of it, I’m not sure I know
what that line means, but i’ll leave it in: should anyone ask, “a poetic thing.”
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature Beetle, with gifts in the rear, An obese old driver, balding and slick, I knew in a moment it must be Dad. “Quick! Run ‘fore they catch us, spying their plan!
“Now, brother and sister!” To bed we soon ran.
On, Einstein! on Turtles! Fang, over she goes! Why the pets were inside nobody knows!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away now!” If Mum ever sees us she’ll have a right cow!
Safe in my room, and turning around, I see down the hall, Dad come with a bound.
Beard as crazy as ever, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
See, the beetle we owned with only one good tire, drove around smoking, mostly on fire.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, it’s true I was saddened by the size of his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! darting back and fore! Excited by bargains from the used-clothing store!
As any friends of Dad would know, the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
A cooking show, on someone’s telly, was as close as we’d get to a bowlful of jelly.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, the absentee stockings; then rose with a jerk,
putting his back out, now half his full height! Hard to believe with presents so light.
And after counting the diminutive pile, he returned to his room, to lay down for a while
for surely quite early we kids would arise, screaming…
“Happy Christmas to all, where’s our surprise?!”
I’m thankful for parents who came through in a stitch, for haven’t you heard?
Santa’s just for the rich. It’s about Peace, Joy and Love, and you know what’s so funny? They’re all easy to give and don’t cost any money.