Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the zone
Not a ski bum was hiking, not even on Lone.
The ski socks were hung by the wood stove with care,
In hopes that deep powder soon would be there.
The nuggets were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of pillow lines danced in their heads.
And hottie in her ‘kerchief, and I in my beanie,
Had just fired the grill for brews and a weenie.
When out on the porch there arose such a clatter,
The couch surfer sprang up see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and spilled his chron stash.
The moon on the carpet of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of bluebird to pockets below.
When what to his bloodshot eyes should appear,
But a huge fatty sled, and eight massive reindeer.
With a crusty old driver, yet lively and quick,
He knew in a moment “Whoa bro, that dude is SICK!”
More rapid than Bode his rippers they came,
And he whistled, and bellowed, and called them by name!
“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the mountain! To the top of the headwall!
Now slash away! Slash away! Slash away all!”
As dry leaves that smoke before the powder does fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, huck huge to the sky.
So up to the A-Frame the rippers they flew,
With the sled full of toys, and that gnarly dude too.
And then, in a twinkling, we heard on the roof
The pounding and pawing of each mega hoof.
As we drew in our heads, and were turning around,
Down the chimney the jolly Dude came with a bound.
He was dressed super steezy, from his dome to his foot,
Yet his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had in a sack,
He looked like Patrol, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples were merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose totally cherry!
His stoke was quite epic, his pants hung quite low,
And the beard on his face 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 had a broad face and a gi-normous belly,
That rocked the house as he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was massive but plump, like Buddy The Elf,
And broski cheezed out in spite of himself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Told us he was irie like the most natty dread.
He spoke not a curse word, but got straight to his work,
And crammed all the ski socks, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his digits aside of his beak,
And giving a nod, rose straight up to the peak!
He sprang to his sled, to his team gave a yammer,
And away they all flew like he was dropping the hammer.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he launched out of sight,
“Happy Ski Season to all, and to all a good-night!”
