Taken from http://www.emf.net/~estephen/humor/xmas/magic.txt for Matthew's Humour Area.

The Night Before Christmas

by: Adam Cerling

'Twas the night before Christmas, and through the house cool
No games were in progress, not one little duel.
The stockings, like red-and-white fabric postboxes,
Were hung with the hope that St. Nick would bring Moxes.

The children were nestled all snug in their cots,
With visions of booster packs cast in their thoughts;
And mamma in kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just Sleighted our Minds for a long winter's nap.

When out on the Plain there arose such a Shatter
I Jumped from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a Specter,
Opened the panes and looked out on the sector.
The Blood Moon upon the white new-fallen snow
Gave Holy Light's lustre to objects below.

When, what to my wondering Orbs should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so jolly and bright,
I knew that St. Nick must play Red, Green and White.

More rapid than Serras his coursers they came,
and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Dasher to Ashes and Dancer of Many!
On, Comet Medic and Pranceric Entity!
Now, Cupid Wombat and Benalish Vixen!
ArmagedDonner and Lord of the Blitzen!
"To the top of the roof, to the top of the wall!
Now dash away, Lightning-like; Bolt, one and all!"

As Scryb Sprites before the wild Hurricane fly,
(With Regeneration; they sure didn't die!)
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew,
With sleighful of MAGIC cards! (Nicolas, too.)

Then in a Twiddling I heard on the roof
The tapping and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning about,
St. Nicolas chimneywalked inside from out.

He was dressed all in fur, a right jolly old elf,
So blackened with soot like he'd Deathlaced himself.
A bundle of boxes he'd flung on his back,
He grinned as he fished out the first booster pack.

His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how wild!
Red mana went into his pool when he smiled!
His droll little mouth was drawn up beaming bright;
The beard on his chin was like Kudzu in white.

A pipe he held firm betwixt lips quite unchapped.
(The Smoke likely kept all his bronchioles tapped.)
He had a round face and a gut like a ball,
That when he laughed shook like a huge Living Wall.

He was jolly and plump; through laughter I mentioned,
"You _are_ the oft-mimicked but never-Cloned Legend!"
A wink of his eye and a wiggle of ear
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to Fear.

He spoke not a word but went straight to the socks.
He filled them with Loti and each type of Mox!
Thus finished, a finger he laid by his nose;
as if by Stone Giant, up-chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, and down-counted from five,
then away they all flew like a Wasp from its Hive.
Ere he drove out of sight, though, I heard him exclaim,
"Happy Christmas to all! And to all a good game!"

Page written by Matthew Darwin <matthew@mdarwin.ca>
1,616 hits since March 14, 1999