T'was the night before Christmas and all through the base, Not a creature was stirring, Maya set a slow pace. The Moonboots were hung by the airlocks with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The pilots were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Eagle flights danced in their heads. Helena and John, both wearing a cap Had just settled down for a long Alphan nap.
When up on the roof there arose such a clatter, They sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the hallway they flew with a roar, Aimed true the commlock and opened the door.
The lights on the floor of the empty hallway Gave them to know this was not a good day. When what to their sleep-filled eyes did appear, But a miniature ship with eight tiny red glears.
With a chubby old driver so in need of more, They knew in a moment it must be Taybor. More rapid than Eagles his red glears they came, And he belched and he wheezed and he called them by name:
"Now Gamma, Now Zeta, Now Beta, Now Alpha, On Kappa, On Sigma, On Theta, On Delta! To the top of the base, hey, this is fun, Now don't you dare, don't you dare, don't you dare run!"
As moon dust before the hot Eagle jets fly, That meet with just nothing and raise to the sky, So up to the base-top his red glears they flew, With a ship full of neat-junk and Taybor, him too.
And then in an instant thery heard in the hall, The groaning and moaning of the red glears all. As they went back to their room; were turning around, Down the hallway old Taybor came with a bound.
He was dressed all in silk from his head to his foot, And his robe was bedazzled with jewels he called groot. A sack full of stuff he had staggered to pull, And he looked like he'd had more than a snoot-full.
His eyes, how they wandered, his dimples, how hairy, His cheeks were like bonzai, his nose a bit wary. His small little mouth was drawn up in an "Oh", Now the skin on his face was as white as new snow.
The cork from some wine he had hidden beneath, And mumbled his name was now something like "Keith". He had a fat face, and a little round belly, That shook when he burped like a bowl full of jelly.
He was weaving a bit, not quite able to stand, So John and Helena reached to give him a hand. He shook them aside, put a hand to his head, A look from the doctor: 'He should be in bed'.
Taybor said not a word, went straight to his work, And filled all the moonboots, then turned with a jerk. And raising his glass to Alpha in toast, Back down the hall he lurched, like Mateo's ghost.
He wove to his ship, to his glears gave a fright, And away they all flew like the stars of bright light. But they heard him mumble as he flew out of sight, "Happy Christmas to Alpha, have a good night!"
