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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 'Twas the night before Christmas and all were asleep, Not a creature was stirring, not even a sheep. The cattle were snoozing, the pigs were at rest And the chickens were settled asleep on the nest. Apart from some snoring the night air was still, Untroubled, unwaking, unstirring, until A sound of hooves halting, a clatter and crash And a sound like a cart without wheels going "Smash!" From fluffy cloud nightmares and dreamings absurd, Inside and awaking, white woolly heads stirred And knowing that something was out on the deck, All cautious and fearful, they went out to check. Out there on the snow without reason or why, A sledge had been left which had just ceased to fly. A man dressed in red had gone off to the phone. The sledge and its cargo were parked there alone. The sheep ventured out to explore in accord, Sniffed at the sledge and then each climbed aboard, Ignoring the reindeer all harnessed and tied, The sledge was, most strangely, much bigger inside. There were mailbags and boxes and cartons of stuff, There were baubles and booze and cushions of fluff, There were maps too and letters and lists sealed with wax, There were hundreds and hundreds of bulging red sacks. The contents they sniffed at but found them no good, They were toys made of plastic, of metal, and wood, But searching much further they found at the back, With a different aroma, a battered old sack. Not tied with red ribbon, no parcels inside, The sheep nosing round nudged the sack open wide And all looked upon, peering over the edge, Carrots and turnips and other such veg. Fortune was smiling, a great happenstance: This heaven delivered production of plants. A large and assorted rich vegetable stash Was just what was needed for their Christmas bash. One sheep keeping lookout, the others pursued The cunning extraction of their bag of food; Though bulky and heavy, they dragged it away Off to the barn and all hid beneath hay. Inside the outhouse, the sheep lying low Could hear Father Christmas beyond in the snow Offering kids' toys instead to his team, Getting frustrated and letting off steam: "Come lads, be good, there's a job we must do. There’s a guaranteed nosebag when finally through. Rudolph, look here, is there nothing you'd like? There’s no carrots now, but would you like a bike?" "Dasher and Dancer, a train set for you? Prancer and Vixen, a dolls house might do? Comet and Cupid? No, not you as well? Donner and Blitzen and damn it to Hell!" It mattered not how much the fat red chap pled, The reindeer weren't moving until they'd been fed. It mattered not how much the fat red chap cursed, The sheep before Christmas had gotten there first. So, if on awaking, you find you're aware Of festive forsaking, that no one's been there And lacking filled stockings and presents and such The sheep are all sorry, but not very much.
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