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4 Nights Before Christmas

picture of Clement Moore

In case you're living in a cave and don't know what's going on in the outside world, there are only four nights before Christmas. In honor of that I am posting four different versions of The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore (picture on the right). The parodies of this poem are seemingly endless. The ones I'm posting today all come with attribution to the original authors. This post is longer than usual, but I don't plan to post again until next week.

Twas The Night Before Christmas ... For Moms
by Ruth Carter-Bourdon

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the abode
Only one creature was stirring, and she was cleaning the commode.
The children were finally sleeping all snug in their beds,
While visions of Nintendo and Barbie flipped through their heads.

The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
With a half-constructed bicycle propped on his knee.
So only Mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
Which made her sigh, "Now what is the matter?"

With the toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
She descended the stairs and saw the old man.
He was covered with ashes and soot, which fell with a shrug,
"Oh, great," muttered Mom, "now I have to clean the rug."

"Ho Ho Ho!" cried Santa, "I'm glad you're awake,
Your gift was especially difficult to make."
"Thanks, Santa, but all I want is time alone."
"Exactly!" he chuckled, "So, I've made you a clone."

"A clone?" she muttered, "What good is that?"
"Run along, Santa, I've no time for chit chat."
Then out walked the clone — the Mother's twin;
Same hair, same eyes, same double chin.

"She'll cook, she'll dust, she'll mop every mess.
You'll relax, take it easy, watch TV, and work less."
"Fantastic!" the Mom cheered. "My dream has come true!"
"I'll shop, I'll read, I'll sleep a night through!"

From the room above, the youngest did fret.
"Mommy? Come quickly, I'm scared and I'm wet."
The clone replied, "I'm coming, sweetheart."
"Hey," the Mom smiled, "she sure knows her part."

The clone changed the small one and hummed her a tune,
As she bundled the child in a blanket cocoon.
"You're the best mommy ever. I really love you."
The clone smiled and sighed, "And I love you,too."

The Mom frowned and said, "Sorry, Santa, no deal.
That's my child's love she is trying to steal."
Smiling wisely, Santa said, "To me it is clear,
Only one loving Mother is needed here."

The mom kissed her child and tucked her in bed.
"Thank you, Santa, for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won't be very long,
When they'll be too old for my cradle and song."

The clock on the mantle began to chime.
Santa whispered to the clone, "It works every time."
With the clone by his side, Santa said, "Good night.
Merry Christmas, dear Mom, you will be all right."


A Politically Correct Night Before Christmas
© Harvey Ehrlich, 1992

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolph was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim, Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls, or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacifistic.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.

So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
May you and your loved ones, enjoy peace on Earth.


Merry Christmas, My Friend
by Former Corporal James M. Schmidt, originally printed in Leatherneck in 1991

'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live.

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I'd seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I'd heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps."

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night's chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn't want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said "Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day, all secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.


The Nightmare Before Christmas
by Gordon Dickson

The nightmare before Christmas: And in his sad heart
Joseph's dreams were all shattered and coming apart.
The woman who loved him, his own bride to be
Had told him a story and begged him to see.

This young woman, Mary, so tender and mild,
This young woman, Mary, was carrying a child!
What a fool he had been to make such a choice!
He loved her. He cherished the sound of her voice!

He loved her. She loved him. The future was bright,
But something like this ... well, it just wasn't right.
And now all their hopes for a grand wedding day
Were all dashed to pieces in fear and dismay.

She said that an angel had brought her the word.
She said she was "chosen" — "blessed by the Lord."
She said that this angel had said to "Rejoice!"
And said that she simply agreed to God's choice,
But now, Joseph doubted. But, Joseph was just,
And Joseph now knew he would do what he must.

He would not make her suffer; he would find a way
To end their engagement and send her away.
He still loved young Mary, and though he would mourn,
He would not subject her to harsh, public scorn.

He would not still love her, nor call her a friend,
For this kind of woman might do this again....
And then came the dream. When the angel appeared
He answered the questions that Joseph had feared.

This angel told him he had not been deceived
He said that in Mary, the Lord had conceived!
Young Mary was not an outcast — a pariah
There in her womb was the Lord, the Messiah!

The angel told Joseph he was not to fear
To marry the Mary that he held so dear,
For the Lord Himself now would come to save men
By this Child, He would save men — save them from sin
Then, Joseph took Mary to be his own wife,
To share hopes and fears, yes, to share his own life.

Nightmare before Christmas? Not in Mary's womb
The nightmare for men is from sin and the tomb.
That nightmare haunts men who are lost in their sin
But Christmas delivered the Light unto men!


If you can't get enough parodies of the original poem, there are links to many different (per)versions at about.com Disclaimer: there may be some versions that offend your sensitivities.

Do you have a link to your favorite The Night Before Christmas parody?

I wish you all a blessed Christmas celebration!


"The person who tries to live for God and for Mammon will find when he dies that he has neither." - Drew Conley

=^..^= =^..^=

Q: What would have happened if it had been wise women instead of men?

A: They would have asked for directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made a casserole, and brought practical gifts!

IVman: For some reason, in His infinite wisdom, God chose that it should be wise men instead. We'll just leave it that way. 😀

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3 Comments on “4 Nights Before Christmas”

  1. #1 Dan
    on Dec 21st, 2009 at 11:32 am

    A Politically Correct Night Before Christmas is not politically correct. The title and first line contain the word “Christmas,” which should be replaced with “unmentionable winter holiday” in order to please some.

  2. #2 Rob
    on Dec 24th, 2009 at 7:04 am

    @Dan – Hmm, I can’t believe he would be that insensitive, but you’re right. 🙂

  3. #3 Doug
    on Jan 6th, 2010 at 6:24 pm

    ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
    Not a creature could write verse without butchering syntax in one place to fit the meter and completely ignoring meter somewhere else, assuming that rhyme is really all you need to be clever, not even a mouse.
    The peeves were all hung by the chimney with care,
    Et cetera.

    (Maybe I shouldn’t have responded to this particular post…)

    Sorry — I can find cleverness in a GOOD parody of a beloved poem, but in my opinion, it isn’t clever if it’s not good, which means at least getting the form right. I was glad to see that the serious version did do a pretty good job, though.

    Hope your Christmas was merry.