by Ginger Chouinard
LATE LATE at NIGHT before RICKmas, Not even (in Laos/ Minnie Mouse/ your spouse/ a European Black Grouse/ In anyone’s blouse)…
Not a STRANGER was stirring, not one IN THE HOUSE.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with PRAYERS,
In hopes that the St of RICKOHOLICS soon would be there.
The Jessie’s giRLS and BoyZIZ were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of SOUND-CHECKS ROCKED ON in their heads.
And mamma in her RICK’s MERCH, and I in my CRAP,
Had just S4EOW our brains before a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to say “YOU CAN KEEP YOUR CHATTER”.
Away to the window I flew like some KIND OF FOOL high on HASH,
RODGEE was playing the drums on the cans of our TRASH!
St. RICK MOONED us on the breast of the new-fallen snow.
IT gave the LUSTre of mid-day to RICK CHICKS below.
When, what to my WANDERING eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a BLITZED ROCKIN’ driver, so lively and SLICK,
I knew in a moment it must be St RICK.
More rapid than HAWKS his BANDMATES they came,
And he whistled, and CURSED THEM, and called them by name!
“Now RODGEE! now, PAULY! now, GEORGE-Y and NASTY!
On, BUZZY! On, Cupid! On, MATTY and Stupid!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
TAKE ME AWAY! TAKE ME AWAY! TAKE ME AWAY… ALL!”
As dry leaves that before the wild FLOWERS from hurricane SANDY did fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, SPEAK TO THE SKY.
So up to the house-top the COMPLAINING BASTARDS they flew,
With the sleigh full of STAR WARS Toys, and St RICKolas too.
And then, “OUR SHIP’S SINKING”, I heard on the roof
The JAMMING and REHEARSING of each little GOOF.
As I SANG in my head, and was WORLD START TURNING around,
Down the chimney St RICKolas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in LEATHER, from his head to his TUCHUS,
And his clothes were all RIPPED with FANS SCRATCHES and RUCKUS.
A bundle of RAYGUNS he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a STUNNING ROCKSTAR, READY FOR ATTACK!!
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like in HARD TO HOLD, his nose unlike STEVE PERRY’s!
His HOT little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was a GOATEE white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he SMOKED HELD SOME JAMAICAN HASHISH,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had IMPRESSIVE PECS and a little FLAT belly,
That DID NOT SHAKE when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was SKINNY and HANDSOME, a right jolly YOUNG elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a TURN of his head,
Soon, MADE ME FAINT, HE THOUGHT I’D DROPPED DEAD.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then MOUTH to MOUTH WITH A SMIRK.
And GIVING THE finger TO NASTOS… so it goes,
AFTER AN AWESOME ROCK CONCERT, up the chimney he rose!
SPRINGY sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave an “OH WELL”,
And away they all flew like BATS OUT OF HELL.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy RICKmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
…and READ those signed copies I left U of Late Late at Night!
Have a great bunch of HOLIDAZE… Cheers, Ginger