Twas the night before Xmas, when all through my pad
Naught was rhyming with Xmas, and this made me mad;
The TV was tuned to the Home Shopping Place
In hopes that St. Nicholas would not show his face;
To celebrate Thursday all over the globe
I opened a brewski from Ye Old Latrobe;
At length I tuned in to the Playboy Channel
And put on my PJ's, the ones in red flannel;
I sat on the couch like a russet potato
"Anna Nicole Smith was sure one hot tomato!"
I poured a martini, to warm me within
Eschewing dumb eggnog in favor of gin;
Then just when my loins were beginning to stir
I heard in the sky an incredible whir;
I zipped up and ran to my highrise balcony
The place where I practice my hobby of falconry;
And what to my bloodshot eyes should appear
But a huge flying saucer with a silver veneer;
Eight tiny green creatures climbed down on a ladder
And I became so frightened I emptied my bladder;
"What is it you want, if I'm not being nosy?"
I asked as they circled me, ring-around-the-rosy;
"We'd like to examine your brain's frontal lobe
And also the classic, the old anal probe."
"But I am no leader, no Martin Van Buren;
I'm just some poor schmuck standing in his own urine!"
I could not dissuade them, or bribe them with money
I offered them beer; they just thought that was funny;
They made me lie down on the dining room table
And did things involving a fiber optic cable;
A half hour later they boarded their craft
Was it all just a dream? Was I crazy, or daft?
Then I heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight
"Happy Thursday to all, and to all a good night!"