‘Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that there would be food in there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of a meal danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my jammies,
Had just settled down with no food in our tummies,
When out on the lawn 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 shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a group of my neighbors, all hungry with fear,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Mr. Slick.
More rapid than eagles his neighbors they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, TRAVIS! now, MARY! now, PETER and DYLAN!
On, CARRIE! on COLIN! on, DONALD and BRIAN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Grab all that you can then dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, aim between the eyes,
So down from the house-top the burglars they flew,
With a car full of food, and my ammo too!
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The tiptoeing and sneaking of each little sleuth.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Mr. Slick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in all camo, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
An empty sack he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a robber just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how scary!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose all hairy!
His droll little mouth was drawn up with a scowl,
And with the stare he gave me I swore he would howl;
The stump of a pipe 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 ran like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right horrible little man,
And I cringed when I saw him, in spite of his tan;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to my kitchen,
And stole all our food; then turned with a mission,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, out the door he strode;
He sprang to his car, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all drove like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“I’M GLAD WE CAME… THANKS FOR NOT PUTTING UP A FIGHT!”
The moral? Besides having a little fun with a Christmas poem and honestly not making much sense at all, please remember to stock up your food storage, keep your OPSEC in order, don’t store all of your food in one place if possible… and do your best to encourage everyone you know–family, friends, neighbors–to keep up with their own pantries so they don’t come looking for yours.
Remember, friends don’t let friends pantries look like this…
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