Boston, MA – Due to underwhelming demand, we are hesitantly continuing our not so popular “Twas The Night Before Christmas” poem which we aptly blogged the night before Christmas. You really should read that part HERE first, otherwise, you run the risk of getting lost in one of the world’s most complex poems.
‘Twas The Night Before Christmas (Part II. Part 2?)
‘Twas the Night before Christmas,
and all through the halls,
there roamed angry Martin,
with tightly wound balls.
Martin called them his “hairy muchachos”,
and more often than not, they smelled of stale nachos.
When up on the roof there arose such a clatter,
that Martin sent Mrs. Munson to see what was the matter.
On the roof she saw Santa, and what did she hear?
Santa screaming at those flying donkeys that he called reindeer.
“On Lindsay, on Suri, on Kingston, on Paris!
On Seacrest, on Tori and Dean Spelling, on Adolf, on Anna Faris!”
And off they went, into the mist,
so Martin thought Mrs. M might like to be kissed,
as they moved closer, his pajama serpent raged,
unlocking itself from the peephole, where it was previously caged,
the helmet had turned purple, with obviously delight,
Mrs. Munson ruined the moment, by mentioning frostbite,
Off she went, back down the latter,
while Martin spackled the chimney, with his own special batter.
While Santa went around the world getting paid,
Martin spent another Christmas, not getting laid.
The End (for realz)