Monday, December 04, 2006
Twas the Night Before Christmas
My family is having a little contest amoungst ourselves writing a "Night Before Christmas" story. The story starts as;
"Twas the Night Before Christmas,
And all through the streets,
Not a creature was stirring,
But Little Old Pete ......
From there, we add on. I am posting a few of them here.
Enjoy and Merry Christmas,
Dae
====================================================
T’was the night before Christmas,
All through the streets,
Not a creature was stirring,
But Little Old Pete.
Down in the allies,
Where the cans are all stashed.
He made a good meal,
Of garbage can Hash.
From a wore pocket,
He found his last match.
To make a small fire,
On a brick he did scratch.
With all the banging,
And lighting of fires.
He woke an ol’ hound,
Asleep in a tire.
Warming his dinner,
In a can that he found.
Careful to keep away,
That mangy ol’ hound
Taking his meal,
And walking the streets.
He walked to a storefront,
To his very favorite seat.
Here the TV’s,
Were left on at night a lot,
And here he could watch,
While his meal was still hot.
Too his side,
That ol’ hound, it would sit
Hoping a morsel,
Of food he would get.
And like every night,
While they sat here together
Pete would drop some,
As he shivered in the weather.
‘Ol hound, he would move,
a bit closer to Pete.
Laying across him,
And warming his feet.
“Merry Christmas my friend”,
Pete told the ‘ol hound.
And together they slept,
On the hard frozen ground.
"Twas the Night Before Christmas,
And all through the streets,
Not a creature was stirring,
But Little Old Pete ......
From there, we add on. I am posting a few of them here.
Enjoy and Merry Christmas,
Dae
====================================================
Twas the Night Before Christmas
and all through the streets,
Not a creature was stirring,
but Little Old Pete.
His gray beard was long,
his hair, it was shaggy.
The clothes that he wore,
a bit dirty and raggy.
Pete had no family,
no wife and no children.
No Mother, no Father,
no squabblin siblin.
But, Pete was not lonely.
Oh no, he was not.
He had many friends,
He had quite alot.
The bag that he carried,
held close to his chest.
He had filled through the year,
for the ones he loved best.
So through the cold night,
Old Pete, he did go.
Never minding cold numbness
of finger and toe.
First came the Butcher,
who's floor Pete did sweep.
For a pound of ground beef
and a dollar to keep.
Pete searched through his bag,
til finally he found,
the rusty old bell,
someone, had tossed on the ground.
On the door he hung it,
cleaned and tied with a bow.
Each time the door opened,
the Butcher would know.
Next came the Bakers
still smelling divine,
with pies, cakes, cookies and
many breads so fine.
For her kindness and friendship,
Old Pete, he did give,
A pretty box made of tin,
for her pencils to live.
On down the street,
on through the night.
Pete delivered his gifts
with joy and delight.
The cold wind was blowing.
The snow coming fast.
Old Pete grew weary,
as he delivered his last.
I will sit here and rest
Pete, thought in his head,
Then on to the mission,
for hot soup and a bed.
The Angels did sing,
that cold winter morn,
for many years ago,
a child had been born.
But, on this bright day,
Angels sang with much might.
Old Pete, who loved all,
has entered the light.
and all through the streets,
Not a creature was stirring,
but Little Old Pete.
His gray beard was long,
his hair, it was shaggy.
The clothes that he wore,
a bit dirty and raggy.
Pete had no family,
no wife and no children.
No Mother, no Father,
no squabblin siblin.
But, Pete was not lonely.
Oh no, he was not.
He had many friends,
He had quite alot.
The bag that he carried,
held close to his chest.
He had filled through the year,
for the ones he loved best.
So through the cold night,
Old Pete, he did go.
Never minding cold numbness
of finger and toe.
First came the Butcher,
who's floor Pete did sweep.
For a pound of ground beef
and a dollar to keep.
Pete searched through his bag,
til finally he found,
the rusty old bell,
someone, had tossed on the ground.
On the door he hung it,
cleaned and tied with a bow.
Each time the door opened,
the Butcher would know.
Next came the Bakers
still smelling divine,
with pies, cakes, cookies and
many breads so fine.
For her kindness and friendship,
Old Pete, he did give,
A pretty box made of tin,
for her pencils to live.
On down the street,
on through the night.
Pete delivered his gifts
with joy and delight.
The cold wind was blowing.
The snow coming fast.
Old Pete grew weary,
as he delivered his last.
I will sit here and rest
Pete, thought in his head,
Then on to the mission,
for hot soup and a bed.
The Angels did sing,
that cold winter morn,
for many years ago,
a child had been born.
But, on this bright day,
Angels sang with much might.
Old Pete, who loved all,
has entered the light.
===============================================================
T’was the night before Christmas,
All through the streets,
Not a creature was stirring,
But Little Old Pete.
Down in the allies,
Where the cans are all stashed.
He made a good meal,
Of garbage can Hash.
From a wore pocket,
He found his last match.
To make a small fire,
On a brick he did scratch.
With all the banging,
And lighting of fires.
He woke an ol’ hound,
Asleep in a tire.
Warming his dinner,
In a can that he found.
Careful to keep away,
That mangy ol’ hound
Taking his meal,
And walking the streets.
He walked to a storefront,
To his very favorite seat.
Here the TV’s,
Were left on at night a lot,
And here he could watch,
While his meal was still hot.
Too his side,
That ol’ hound, it would sit
Hoping a morsel,
Of food he would get.
And like every night,
While they sat here together
Pete would drop some,
As he shivered in the weather.
‘Ol hound, he would move,
a bit closer to Pete.
Laying across him,
And warming his feet.
“Merry Christmas my friend”,
Pete told the ‘ol hound.
And together they slept,
On the hard frozen ground.
# posted by Daeoin Arlson @ 9:33 AM 
