Re-posting this for Christmas! Enjoy!
Once Upon a Night Before Christmas
Authors Note – this is based on the classic Christmas poem ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’ by Clement C. Moore.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thru the town,
The creature known as 'Santa Claus' made his rounds.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with dread,
In fear that 'Santa' might just kill them in their beds.
The children they huddled under their sheets,
While visions of terror preceded each heart-beat.
And Snow in her pixie cut and I like a sap,
Had just settled the springs in our Christmas trap.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the peep hole I flew like a flash,
To spy on the prey my trap was to smash.
The dust on the glass of the peep hole was thick,
The thought of the allergens almost made me sick.
When what to my watering eye should suffice,
But a miniature sleigh pulled by eight little mice.
With a tiny gold driver, so sullen and cross,
I knew in a moment that all was not lost.
And having no dignity I started to grin,
For the monster was but a tiny Rumpelstiltskin.
Now Bashful! Now Sneezy!
Now Happy and Sleepy!
On Grumpy! On Smee!
On Dopey and Doc!
To the top of the stair!
To the end of the hall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!
The little man cried, whipping Smee with a thwack,
As he drove up to my door and scuttled under the crack.
Between my legs he passed 'cross the floor,
From the way he was walking I could tell he was sore.
This was hardly the monster about which they'd been warned,
Obviously Henry must've gotten it wrong.
He'd claimed that his moms had been in the wood
Plotting mischief or at least up to no good.
They'd been seen in the woods plotting magical mischief,
Henry even claimed they'd been talking 'Elvish'.
But what had really happened was quite the sight,
For Emma and Regina had joined forces that night.
They'd cast a wicked curse with a 'poof!'
To punish Rumple who kept himself aloof.
He wouldn't be jolly or merry or gay,
In fact he'd barely acknowledge Christmas day.
So they plotted to force him into taking part,
By shooting him with a magical dart.
It didn't make him merry, but instead rather ticked,
For it shrunk him down and forced him to play Saint Nick.
He was dressed all in gold, from his feet to his bust,
And his cloths were all tarnished with loathsome fairy dust.
A bundle of gifts he had loaded on his back,
And he looked like an angry fairy just opening his pack.
His lips how they glowered! His expression, how scary!
His eyes shooting daggers, saying to all, 'Be wary!'
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a scowl,
And the beard on his chin was itchy and fowl.
The stump of a candy cane he held in his teeth,
While on his chest there hung a wreath.
He had a gold tinged face and a padded out belly,
That looked about as real as those on the telly.
He was skinny not plump, a right lean old elf,
And I felt sorry for him, in spite of myself.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He filled all the stockings, and then turned with a jerk.
And over Emma's stocking a spell he wove,
And giving a satisfied smirk, back under the door he dove.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a grumble,
And away they all went, with nary a tumble.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Tell Emma Swan her feet will itch for a fortnight!"
'Oh well.' I said, returning to my wife,
After all, 'All magic comes with a price'.
And I knew my daughter wouldn't trade this for any respite,
For Rumple playing Santa had been far too comical a sight!
MERRY CHRISTMAS ONCERS!
