Not a creature was stirring, not even Steve, my mouse;
There were no stockings hung by the chimney with care,
But Santa, my Viocdin is growing scarce;
We sat watching monster trucks on the couch, Wilson's makeshift bed,
My favorite? Gravedigger, but Wilson likes the one with red;
And Wilson with his "moose hat" and I without a cap,
Talking about the nurses we'd tap,
When suddenly in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
I didn't move, but Wilson jumped up to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen he flew like a flash,
Hopped over my cane, nearly tripping over my stash.
The moon brightly illuminating the snow
Was unusually bright because of an open window,
I got up, too and what did we see appear,
But a plate of Christmas cookies, and a note beginning, "dear,"
I smiled, it was Cuddy, and Wilson reached for one quick,
He had always believed Cuddy and I together would be sick.
I limped as quickly as I could, and finally I came
smirking to the front door, where I called her name;
"Come back here, you vixen!
You can't just leave after leaving cookies in my kitchen!
You're not that far, not even at that wall!
Don't make me come myself, you know I'll fall!"
She quickly came back, like a boomerang flies,
And I kissed her, despite Wilson's cries,
Up above us, a shooting star flew,
It was only a meteoroid to me, but a sleigh to children, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
I broke free from the kiss and then turned around,
Down the chimney Wilson as Santa came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
I couldn't help but laugh at his merry!
He had probably drank too much sherry!
His grin was drawn up like a bow,
And the fake beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He was a Santa Clause without a belly,
You can't expect much from a Jew (who's a little smelly)!
He was hardly a Santa, more like an elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
And then I knew I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, and went straight to his work,
To give me a present. Me, the jerk!
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he walked past us, and then he slows;
He patted me on the back, and gave Cuddy a wolf whistle,
I had fun that night, if only for a little.
And I heard him exclaim through his car window as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas you two, and don't do anything naughty tonight!"