‘Twas a week before Christmas, not a present was boughten,
Not a goody was baked, the house looked forgotten.
And me in my housecoat, and Dad in his shoes,
Had just settled down to watch the Late News.

When from out of the night came a horrible sound,
We sprang from our chairs with a leap and a bound.
We flew to the window, tore open the drapes
The window was frosted, it needed a scrape.

With faces pressed up to our hastily scraped hole,
We peered through the glass to the objects below.
Then what did our wondering eyes then reveal,
But a miniature man on a large snowmobile.

With a roar and a rumble and an ear-splitting crash,
He came to a halt – he had run out of gas.
“Oh, Dasher, oh Dancer, oh Prancer and Vixen,
Where are you now? Where’s Donner and Blitzen?”

The little guy hollered and whistled and screamed,
His voice was much bigger than he was it seemed.
“Oh, please won’t you hear me! Where’s Comet and Cupid?
Old Santa needs help, he knows he is stupid!”

The poor little man looked so sad and forlorn,
As he kicked at his motor and blew on his horn.
When all of a sudden way up in the sky,
Came a jingle of sleigh-bells from way up on high.

Then as they came closer, with our eyes we did find,
Eight tiny reindeer with a bob-sleigh behind.
It landed and Santa climbed quickly aboard,
The reindeer were smiling, he spoke not a word.

But as they arose he made his apology,
We heard him yell, “Phooey on modern technology!!”

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