( Played with this at lunch, not bad but not as good as the Grinch)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Punt Road
Not a Tiger was stirring, not even a toad;
The scarves were all hung by the grandstand with care,
In hopes that St. Andrew soon would be there;
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of browlows danced in their heads;
And Danny in his 'kerchief, and Greg in his cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the ground there arose such a clatter,
Greg sprang from the office to see what was the matter.
Away to the window Miller flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The sun on the crop of the fresh cut grass
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects of brass,
When, what to Danny's wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature corvette, and four tiny reindeer,
With a little greek driver, so lively and randy,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Andy.
More rapid than weagles his engine they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Richo! now, Campbo! now, Dunc and Bowden!
On, Johno! on Cogs! on, *smile* and Rodon!
To the top of the stand! to the top of the pool!
Now run away! bounce away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with MCG, mount up to the sky,
So up to Punt Road the corvette it flew,
With the car full of money, and St. Andrew too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The dancing and pawing of the his hoofs.
As Greg drew in his hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Andy came with a bound.
He was dressed all in blue, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with red and black like the soot;
A bundle of cash he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they tweeked! his dimples how cheery!
His nose like a cherry! and his well it smelled oh so beery
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the stbble of his chin was as white as the snow;
The butt of a ciggy he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And Greg 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 took all the scarves; then turned like a jerk,
And laying his finger right up the side of his nose,
And gave a quick finger, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his corvette, to his team gave a whistle,
And away he flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all and no hand outs tonight."
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Punt Road
Not a Tiger was stirring, not even a toad;
The scarves were all hung by the grandstand with care,
In hopes that St. Andrew soon would be there;
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of browlows danced in their heads;
And Danny in his 'kerchief, and Greg in his cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the ground there arose such a clatter,
Greg sprang from the office to see what was the matter.
Away to the window Miller flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The sun on the crop of the fresh cut grass
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects of brass,
When, what to Danny's wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature corvette, and four tiny reindeer,
With a little greek driver, so lively and randy,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Andy.
More rapid than weagles his engine they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Richo! now, Campbo! now, Dunc and Bowden!
On, Johno! on Cogs! on, *smile* and Rodon!
To the top of the stand! to the top of the pool!
Now run away! bounce away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with MCG, mount up to the sky,
So up to Punt Road the corvette it flew,
With the car full of money, and St. Andrew too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The dancing and pawing of the his hoofs.
As Greg drew in his hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Andy came with a bound.
He was dressed all in blue, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with red and black like the soot;
A bundle of cash he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they tweeked! his dimples how cheery!
His nose like a cherry! and his well it smelled oh so beery
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the stbble of his chin was as white as the snow;
The butt of a ciggy he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And Greg 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 took all the scarves; then turned like a jerk,
And laying his finger right up the side of his nose,
And gave a quick finger, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his corvette, to his team gave a whistle,
And away he flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all and no hand outs tonight."
.
