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Carpal Tunnel
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OP
Carpal Tunnel
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Max Q notes, "Two kind souls informed me of the source material." http://www.lone-star.net/mall/main-areas/Night_B_Xmas.html There are hundreds of parodies of this poem. Can anyone offer a good one? TEd, would you care to author one?PS: I understand that this poem, though very widely known and dearly loved in the US, is little-known elsewhere.
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Carpal Tunnel
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Carpal Tunnel
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old hand
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old hand
Joined: Jul 2000
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Well, in honor of the recent ebonics thread, here's one that I received from a friend at college. I hope it's not too inappropriate.  `Twas Da Night Befo` Christmas
Twas da night befo' Christmas and all in the hood
Not a homie was stirring cuz it was all good
The tube socks was hung on the window sill
and we all had smiles all up on our grill
Mookie and BeBe was snug in the crib
in the back bedroom cuz that's how we live
and moms in her doo-rag and me with my nine
had just gotten busy cuz da girlfriend is fine
All of a sudden a lowrider rolled by
Bumpin phat beats cuz the system's fly
I bounced to the window at a quarter pas'
Bout ready to pop a cap in somebody's a**
I yelled to my lady, Yo bitch peep this!
She said, Stop frontin just mind yo' bidness
I said, for real doe, come check dis out
We weren't even buggin, no worries, no doubt
Cuz bumpin an thumpin' from around da way
Was Santa, 8 reindeer and a sleigh
Da beats was kickin, da ride was phat
I said, Yo red Dawg, you all dat!
He threw up a sign and yelled to his boyz,
"Ay yo, give it up, let's make some noise!
To the top of the projects and across the strip mall,
We gots ta go, I got a booty call!"
He pulled up his ride on the top a da roof
and sippin on a 40, he busted a move
I yelled up to Santa, "Yo ain't got no stack!"
he said, "Damn homie, deese projects is wack!
But don't worry black, cuz I gots da skillz
I learnt back when I hadda pay da billz."
Out from his bag he pulled 3 small things
a credit card, a knife, and a bobby pin.
he slid down the fire escape smoove as a cat
and busted the window with a b-ball bat
I said, "Whassup, Santa? Whydya bust my place?"
he said,"You best get all up out my face!"
His threads was all leatha, his chains was all gold
His sneaks was Puma and they was 5 years old
He dropped down the duffle, Clippers logo on the side
Santa broke out da loot and my mouf popped open wide.
A wink of his eye and a shine off his gold toof
He cabbage patched his way back onto the roof
He jumped in his hooptie with rims made of chrome
To tap that booty waitin at home
and all I heard as he cruised outta sight
was a loud and hearty.....
"WEEESST SIIIIDE!!!!!!!"
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Carpal Tunnel
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Carpal Tunnel
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Pooh-Bah
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Pooh-Bah
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A Visit from St. Nicholson
by Twisted Radio
T'was the fright before Christmas
No one up 'cept me
With a big bowl of popcorn
Watching TV
I stretched, gave a yawn
Settled back in my chair
In hopes that St Nicholson
Soon would be there
The children were lying
Awake without sleep
They’d seen all his movies,
He gives them the creeps
I’d cued up Cuckoo’s Nest
With my trusty remote,
To the part where he had
All the nuts in the boat
When out in the yard
There arose such a noise
I turned off the TV
To see what it was
And what to my wondering eyes
Should approach
But the Los Angeles Lakers
And Pat Riley, their coach.
The limo was racing,
The team at its heels,
That's when I saw him,
The man at the wheel.
He ranted and cursed,
Waved ‘round his swizzle stick
And I knew in a second
It must be Jack Nic.
More rapid than the Celtics,
These Lakers, they came
He screamed like a madman
And called them by name,
”Now, Magic, now Worthy,
Now Scott and Kareem,
On Cooper, on Rambus,
And the rest of the team.”
Down the chimney St Nicholson
Came with a groan
Then he brushed off the soot and said,
“Honey, I’m home.”
He was wearing a trenchcoat
With beer it was stained,
And a shirt clawed to shreads
By Shirley McLaine.
He had a fat face
And a flabby beer belly
From too many trips
To the bar and the deli
”It’s tough when an actor
Becomes fat and lazy
I only get calls to play
Weirdos and crazies
And middle-aged has-beens
With washed-up careers,
But I’ll fix ‘em all
And play Santa this year!”
And with that he buried
His head in his sack,
And said, “Let’s see what you get
From your old buddy Jack.
A hatchet for Daddy,”
He reared back his head,
”To scare all those little buggers
Upstairs in bed.
And a stiff drink for Mommy
In a nice, tall glass
She could really use something
To kill that bug up her chimney.”
With a wink of his eye
And a twist of his face,
He threw all the stockings
Into the fireplace.
What could I do,
What could I say?
What would I wear
On my feet Christmas Day?
I asked for a reason, and
Turning his head
He looked straight at me,
And here’s what he said:
”Why? You wanna know why?
Do you really wanna know why, pal?
I’ll tell you why.
When you're out Christmas shopping
You know, doing your little Christmas things
With all your little Christmas friends
Spreading all that Christmas cheer
With those stupid Christmas songs?
Did you ever stop to think
Of picking up a little something for ol’ Jack? Huh?
Did you ever stop to think
What Jack might like for Christmas?
You know, Jack, from the movies?
Up on the big screen?
Pouring his heart out
Giving it everything he’s got
Day in and day out
Just trying as hard as he can
To bring a tiny little bit of sunshine
Into your miserable little hum-drum lives?
Did you ever thing of good ol’ Jack?
Huh?
For a second?
No! Not once!
Maybe ol' Jack just wasn't that good, huh?
Maybe I wasn’t good enough in The Postman Always Rings Twice.
Acted my guts out for you in that one.
Cuckoo’s Nest.
The Shining.
Witches of freakin' Eastwick.
Pritzie’s freakin’ Honor.
All for you, pal.
Just to brighten things up for ya.
Not good enough, though, is it?
No, you want me to brighten up the Christmas season too, huh?
Isn’t that what you want, pal?
OK, let’s make things real bright around here.
Whataya say we decorate the tree?
String up these pretty lights here
Oh, she's looking brighter already
Why don’t we take this cute little angel
And ram her on the top branch.
Huh? Huh?
How about some gasoline for the whole freakin' thing?
I mean, let’s make her just as bright as she can be.
Whataya say we light her up and chuck her through the ol’ picture window here, huh, pal?
No sense having a tree as bright as all that
And not giving the neighbors a chance to see
Don't ya think? Huh?
There. Aren’t you glad ol’ Jack stopped by, huh? huh?”
The flames towered brightly
In the cold wintery sky
As he made for his limo
And bade his goodbye.
And an age may unfold
Ere I fail to regret
That visit from St Nicholson
Which I’d sooner forget
But I swear by the goosebumps
Upon my skin
That I’ll always remember
That devilish grin
And his voice crying out,
Ere he faded from sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and I hope I never see you again as long as I live, for cryin' out loud ...”
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Carpal Tunnel
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OP
Carpal Tunnel
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by Rolaine Hochstein (Ms. Magazine)
˜Twas the night before Christmas and, darling, don't ask.
Hercules would have collapsed at the task.
My head was in circles with so much to do
For a family of five and Saint Nicholas, too.
The house was a mess with the children so hearty
And Dad was delayed at this company party.
The kids danced around me proclaiming their wishes
While I was still up to my elbows in dishes.
And as I cleaned up from the little folks' dinners,
I wondered just what I would do for beginners:
I thought of the wrapping of gifts by the dozens,
Of cooking tomorrow for twenty-three cousins,
Of trimming the tree and of cleaning the house,
Of fixing a Bromo to give to my spouse,
Of shining the silver, the copper, the brass,
Of washing and rinsing and polishing glass,
Of strewing the tinsel and peeling tomatoes
And hanging the holly and mashing potatoes,
Of slicing the stringbeans and icing the tarts,
Combining the olives and celery hearts,
Of tossing the salad and baking the pies
And stretching the table to double its size.
The trays were prepared and the punch bowl was handy,
The brandied plum pudding was soaking in brandy.
The night was still young I had nothing to dread,
But thoughts of catastrophe danced in my head:
The baby needs bathing, the cloth needs a pressing,
The rug need a vacuum, the turkey needs dressing,
My hair needs a setting, the children are fretful,
And where is my husband and why so forgetful?
I was just on the border of losing my poise
When out on the lawn there arose a great noise.
Away through the doorway I flew on the double
Atremble lest hubby had tripped into trouble.
The lawn was as green as the first day in May;
We had not had a snowfall so how come the sleigh?
Instead of my husband, this cool little chap
In black leather boots and a plaid golfing cap,
With sideburns and moustache and velveteen vest
And a Celebrate Life button pinned on his chest.
His smile was so dapper, his bright eyes so gleaming.
And was that a joint in his hand? Or me dreaming?
But when I caught on to the look in his eye
I knew it was Santa himself, flying high.
The reindeer were champing and chafing their bits
So quick as a flash, I collected my wits.
I saw there was room for one more in the sleigh
And I stuck out a thumb and said, "Going my way?"
Whereupon Santa Claus, with a mischievous grin,
Tossed out his toy sack and bade me, "Hop in!"
It was just what I needed: a Christmas vacation,
My very first flight into Mom's Liberation.
I sang a refrain as we sped from the sphere:
"Happy Christmas to all and I'll see you next year."
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Carpal Tunnel
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Carpal Tunnel
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For anyone not familiar with the *original ... it is posted in the "Seasons Greetings" thread.
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Carpal Tunnel
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Carpal Tunnel
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That was nice, Consuelo--I've heard Béla Fleck and the Flecktones at our Bluegrass Festival. Bet you have too, Sweet WO'N. 
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