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By Chris O’Toole

‘Twas the night before Christmas and you know the story

The children, they waited for a man, aged and hoary.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

But it was doubtful if Saint Nicholas would ever be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their bed,

Each child’s mind raced wild with dread.

With Mother in her kerchief and I in my cap,

We gazed out the window and feared a mishap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I distinctly heard the sound of a splatter.

Away to the window I tore with a flash,

And I saw Poor Santa had a terrible crash!

The moon on the breast of new fallen snow,

Could not be seen for it was thirty below.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

The sky was dark and stormy, not clear!

When a little old driver, so lively and quick,

Shouted “GPS would have done the trick!”

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

But with no clue where to go in this semi-hurricane.

“Now Dasher, Now Dancer, Now Prancer, Now Vixen!

We need directions! This Christmas needs fixin’!”

It was just then that Elf Central had called,

“We tracked your sleigh Santa, Don’t worry at all!”

Santa, with relief, let out a sigh

Then with much happiness began to cry.

The Christmas is saved! Hooray for GPS tracking!

No presents will these children be lacking.

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,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”