'Twas the night before Christmas, all was silent and quiet, Gifts all over the floor in large heaps and large piles, Santa comfortably snuggled himself in a chair, One last wish to fulfill, and he'll call it all square.
As he opened the note, something aroused his suspicion: Exclamatory points and a lot of volition, Dots all over the place -for the sighs, it was clear, At the signature's place lay a small lady's tear.
Someone's really distressed, said the man to himself, A familiar sight, I know it too well; And still he read on, getting eager to find, What it was that the lady so greatly desired.
"Dear Santa" it said in a feverish hand, "I'm not asking for toys, sweets or low house rent, But the thing that my eyes and ears require, Isn't something that could be for money acquired."
"Please deliver to me, if you find it OK, Persons known to the world as the great Barry Hay, The drumming Cesar, and Rinus with a two-neck guitar, And don't forget George when you have gone that far!"
Santa helplessly let the note slip, From his suddenly weak and no more steady grip. He stared transfixed at all gifts to deliver: The amount made him nothing but tremble and quiver.
"Very well, if this lady doesn't want any sweets, Her gifts may as well travel on their own feet, She'll save on the postage, I'll save on my deer, Gifts that can walk I love more than Teddy bears."
Having made up his mind, he writes a few words, The cable's dispatched, next day's a day off: "Pretty girl. A great fan. I'm busy till five, So come to her rescue and please save her life!"
