’Twas the night before Christmas


And all through the house

Not a clod of snow was melting

No wet pawprints from a mouse

Santa’s sweating in that suit of red

As you lay in bed tonight

Dreaming of the gifts he’ll bring

Through a land of green, not white

How on Earth is he going to land

On rooftops with his sled?

He’s busy replacing runners

With wheels for extra tread

So if in the night you’re woken

With the sound of nearby thunder

Fear not! It’s just old Rudolph

And the load he’s toiling under

It isn’t really storming

This late into December

It’s El Niño’s global warming

That’ll be what you remember

Don’t put out milk and cookies

It’s too hot for that this year —

Leave Santa what he really wants:

An ice cold glass of beer.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Micki Myers’s story.