A Visit From Saint Mick

A Visit From Saint Mick (Randyjw; December 13, 2022)

 

‘Twas the night before Keithmas, when all through the land

All the peeps had been stirring, including the band

The speakers were hung by the road crew with care,

In hopes that Saint Mick soon would be there;

Enjoying the time, we sang Christmas carols,

And all wished we could play bass, just like Darryl!

With Ron in his kerchief, and a horn on Matt’s lap,

We settled our minds to a mid-day’s small nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I rose from the sofa to see what was the matter.

 

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash

The sun on the crest of a Silver Cloud

A rainbow’s reflection was cast all around

And what to my wondering ears should I hear?

But Mick T, Steve, and Bill, and so much good cheer

And a spry little driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in this moment it must be Saint Mick.

More rapid than paparazzo the Stones they all came

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Sasha! now, Mike! now, Bernard and Tim!

On, Chuck! on, Lisa! on, Blondie and Karl Denson!

It sounded like angels had arrived in the hall;

And Sarah Dash’s voice soaring soulfully amongst them all;

Nicky, Stu, Ian, and Billy tickling ivory

And a sweet shuffle sliding from dear, ‘ole Charlie;

And the sweet, plucked strings made by Brian as harpist;

At the lighted console, a plethora of puppies and Saint Mick

And then, in a twinkling, I heard and then saw,

the prancing and dancing of each little paw;

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the skylight Saint Mick had come in with a bound.

He was dressed in faux fur, from his head to his feet;

And his clothes were all finished with sparkling beads.

A trundle of puppies he had snugged on his back

And he looked like a peddler just opening his sack

His eyes — how they twinkled! His lips red like cherries;

On the front step to greet him were Leah and Merry!

A bunch of poinsettia he held in his teeth

And the mistletoe and holly to hang up beneath

The puppies were cute with their little round bellies,

Making the children laugh, they all shimmered like jelly.

He was happy and lovely, a right fun-loving self,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And made merry with laughter; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his chin,

And giving a nod, he left with a grin;

He sprang to his vehicle, giving the harp a wail,

And away they all went on some more happy trails.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Keithmas to all, and to all a good night.”

 

(Based on the poem published anonymously on December 23, 1823 and attributed to Clement Clark Moore: “A Visit from Saint Nicholas” (a.k.a “Twas the Night Before Christmas”).