By Pat Cashman
‘Twas the day after Christmas, and there’s no doubt of it;
Using words like ‘twas, makes me sound like a ‘twit.
But that’s not the point, so let me get back to my tale
While I knock back a few pints of breakfast blend ale.
The children had been nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of UFO 3000 Toy Quadcopters with ultra-bright L.E.D. lights that fly in the dark, do 3-D flips and stunts, and include a bonus battery---danced in their heads.
But that morning no toys were seen under the tree;
The tree itself was buried under loads of debris.
Things might have been fine if I had just stayed in bed;
And not answered a midnight noise at the door instead.
See, the wife and I had just nodded off in peaceful slumber;
She was snoring quietly, and I was sawing the lumber.
When down on the porch there came such a knocking,
I threw my pants on backwards and started moon-walking.
Away to the front door I went nearly fit to be tied,
I reached for the knob and threw the door open wide.
On the porch stood an old coot in a suit and a beard,
He was huffin’ and puffin’ and seemed somewhat weird.