Brandonmas Eve

Twas the night before Brandonmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
They were not stirring because Brandon flexed with care,
In hopes that the red clothed trespasser would soon be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Brandon's karate chops fill their heads.
And fools who are needing, their butts surely will be place a cap,
Brandon will kick them in the brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Brandon sprung from the bed, ninja style see what was the matter.
Away to the window Brandon runs like the Flash,
Tore open the shutters and the window he bashed.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave contrast of the fat man in red below.
When, what in Brandon's iron fist did appear,
But ninety seven ninja Daggers, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a slight shudder, the blades flew quick,
Brandon knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his blades they came,
And they whistled, and screamed, and called Death by name!

"Now Slasher! now, Razor! now, Decapitator and Blood Spillin'!
On, Murder! On, Stupid! on, on Cutter and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now slash away! Slash away! Slash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the daggers they flew,
With the murder in their hearts, and St Nicholas' ass too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The slicing and dicing of each little hoof.
As Brandon had wished, the daggers' target they found
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all bloody with gashes and soot.
A bundle of hilts he had found on his back,
And he looked like a dead hobo, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose bloody like a cherry!
His drool came out his little mouth that was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a leg, cut off by Brandon, he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he breathed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old self,
And Brandon laughed when Brandon saw him, you trespassing elf!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon told Brandon that he soon would be dead.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He flopped and groaned, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, and his soul it rose!

Brandon sprang to the roof and shouted a proclamation
And in his words the citizens felt emancipation
But the words he did exclaim, had lived throughout many nights,
"Brandonmas is the only holiday which matters anymore, get out of my sight"

And all the people and all the animals knew
That this night was now borne anew.
Please tell every baby, puppy, and possum
By the blood of St. Nick, Brandon is Awesome