'Twas The Night Before Chilemas
The Night Before Chilemas
The sweat sox were hung
The kids watched the Food Channel
And Ma in her apron,
When out by the garden
Away to the window
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
More rapid than eagles the ChileHeads came,
As dry heaves that before Pace Mild Salsa do fly,
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
He was dressed all in red, from his head to his foot,
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
Crumbs of Burritos were stuck tight in his teeth,
He was chubby and plump, a demented old elf,
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
or
The Mighty Endorphin Power Rangers
'Twas the night before Chilemas,
When all through the gardens
Not a creature was stirring,
not even the varmints;
by the chimney with care,
In hopes that El Grande
Soon would be there;
snug in their beds,
While visions of Hab Jelly
danced in their heads;
and I, in my whiskers,
Had just settled down
for a long winter's Twister.
there arose such a clatter,
I slid in the garlic oil
to see what was the matter.
I flew like a flash,
Tripped over the Chili Pot
And threw up the sash.
Gave the lustre of madness to objects below,
When, what to my watering eyes then appeared,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight ChileHeads (wierd),
With a strange little driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment El Grande was slick.
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Mary! now, Mark! now, Judy and Kit!
On, Gary, John, Suzy and Rael, you twit!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Two more teaspoons of Cayenne! And Home Brew for all!"
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the ChileHeads flew,
With the sleigh full of hot sauce, and El Grande too.
Chomping, burps, giggling, not the least bit aloof.
As I reached for the chips, and was turning around,
Down the chimney El Grande came with a bound.
And his clothes were all garnished with barbecue soot;
A sack from Bob's Firey Foods on his back,
And he looked like a pusher just opening his pack.
His forehead was sweating, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth did Chipotle stains show,
And the beard on his chin covered sauce stains below;
And smoked jalapenos 'round his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like Red Savina (TM) jelly.
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Made me run hide the last of Jim Campbell's Bread;
And filled all the sweat soxs; looked at me like a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And snorting a tepin, up the chimney he rose;
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight,
"RING OF FIRE TOMORROW, HAPPY CHILEMAS TONIGHT!"
(That whirring sound you hear is Clement Clark Moore spinning in his grave)
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