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Night Before Christmas in Joisey (standard:poetry, 510 words)
Author: Nathaniel MIllerAdded: Jan 29 2015Views/Reads: 964/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Poetry of the popular the Night Before Christmas in Joisey with Vito Claus, Santa's Italian half brother

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat Not a
creature was stirring, not even a rat; The stockings were hung by the 
radiator with care, In hopes that Vito Claus soon would be there; The 
children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Italian 
sausage danced in their heads; And mamma in her nightgown, and I in my 
thong, Had just settled down smoking a big fat bong, When out on the 
alley there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was 
the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the 
blanket and threw open the sash. The moon on the breast of the 
new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to the trashcans below, 
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a trans-am, and 
eight Italians standing dere, With a young driver, so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be Vito Claus. More rapid than eagles his 
hitmen they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by 
name; "Now, Knuckles! Now, Fingers! Now, Gweto and Tony! On, Mo! On 
Vinnie! On, Alvin and Benny! To the top of the fire-escape! To the top 
of the wall! Now climb away! climb away! climb away all!" As quick as a 
flash before the wind blew, They flew up the stairs with tools in hand, 
Breaking and entering their remarkable plan, With the sack full of 
toys, boosted from Sears, oh what a man. I heard on the roof thumping 
and footsteps. As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the 
chimney Vito Claus came with a bound. He was dressed in cheap silk, 
from his head to foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes 
and soot; His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His 
cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth 
was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the 
snow; The stump of a joint he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke 
encircled his head like a wreath; He had a narrow face and a thin 
little belly, That was muscular, and rippled when he laughed He was 
built and strong, a right jolly old Italian Elf, 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 filled all the stockings; then turned 
with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, 
through the window he clambered, He sprang to the street to his 
trans-am, where he gave a whistle, And away they all flew like down a 
thistle. But as he drove out of sight i heard his exclaim with a shout 
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night." 


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