'Twas the night before Cirimas, when all through the site,

Not a user was online, not even MrPacman;

The stockings were hung by the home page with care,

In hopes that St. Canadonion soon would be there;

The newbies were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of shiny badges danced in their heads;

And Ronnika in her 'kerchief, and I in my blog,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on a news post there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my blog to see what was the matter.

Away to the homepage I flew like a flash,

Tore open the new submission list and threw up the clatter.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to words below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny Ciribots,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Canadonion.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Kenon! now, Firestorm! now, Arcalyth and JakeX!

On, Obelisk! on Twisterghost! on, Ludamad and Flashback!

To the top of the page! to the top of the news post!

Now dash away! dash away! dash 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 coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of badges, and St. Canadonion too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Canadonian came with a bound.

He was dressed all in code, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with nougat and spam;

A bundle of badges he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes – how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe 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 laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old webmaster,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Merry Cirimas to all, and to all a good-night."

Improve on it if you will, but this was made out of spare time and boredom. Have a bountiful and merry christmas!

~V~