A Hipcat's Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the pad
Not a cool cat was restless
and that wasn't bad!
The nighttime was quiet –
Like out on a farm –
But soon, in a flash,
I sat up in alarm.
Overhead on the rooftop
Something slithered or crawled.
I grabbed a big candle
And gazed upward, appalled.
The roof timbers squeaked loudly
And distressingly groaned,
And when I saw what was up there,
I thought I was stoned.
It was weird, man, a freakout,
It was a funny, old dude
and reindeer, or horses
or something that "moo"-ed.
This dude was in red, man,
I kid you guys not,
He was fat and quite jolly
(from a pipeful of pot?)
He came in through the window
His hair flowing like fleece.
He winked and laughed loudly;
I called the police.
"I'm Santa!" He bellowed,
As they hauled him away
With his boxes and creatures,
And rusty, red sleigh.
"Sure, you are Santa,"
Said cops, rolling their eyes,
"We could tell it was you,
even with your disguise."
The cops reassured me
That all was all right.
One even said, "Merry Christmas, Bud,
And have a good night."
Epilogue:
So I will have my nice Christmas –
Perhaps a white one again –
Free from one crackpot robber
Who's serving seven to ten.
