Image  © wallcoo.net

‘T was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a cyclist was stirring, nor e’en a dormouse.
The stockings were hung from the garter with care,
In hopes that Saint Nicola soon would be there.
The readers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of petticoats danced in their heads;
And Puddin in her ’kerchief, and Erin in her cap,
Had settled the servers for a long winter’s nap;
When out in the net there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the keys to see what was the matter.
Away to Mozilla I flew like a flash,
To open a window and twitter a hash.
The light from the screen of the laptop's pale glow,
Gave a lustre of moonlight to the touchpad below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a animated sleigh, and eight jpeg reindeer,
With a cute little driver, so sexy and yiffy,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nicki.
More rapid than eagles her coursers they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dashet! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vicky!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donna and Mitzi!
To the top of the screen! And through the firewall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up through the lap-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of gifts, and Saint Nicola too.
And then, like a wav file, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I hit standby, and was just shutting down,
out a usb port Saint Nicola came with a bound.
She was dressed in faux fur, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all couture designer to boot.
A bundle of gifts she had slung on her hip,
And she looked like a Model, a smile on her lips.
Her eyes – how they twinkled! her dimples how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nails red as cherry!
Her sensuous mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the skin of her face was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pencil she held tight in her teeth,
And she used it to check off the gifts she would leave.
She had a slim figure and a little round booty,
That she shook, as she danced, just like a Yule Beauty.
She was sexy and hot, a right smoking young elf,
And I sighed when I saw her, in spite of myself.
with a wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
She let me know I had nothing to dread.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
Laid out the presents; and turned like a dancer from Cirque,
And all of a sudden, she started to glimmer,
And giving a nod, she quickly grew dimmer.
She sprang to the screen, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she faded from sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”