scarletsurf
Ringmaster
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a droid was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the thrusters with care,
In hopes that St. Solo soon would be there;
The characters and writers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of space-battles danced in their heads;
And acrobats in their ’tights, the ship adorned with lights,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the stars there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the captain's chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The planet on the breast of the new-fallen star
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature flacon, and eight tiny duinuogwuin,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be coming in a lick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Luke! now, Leia! now, Lando and Chewy!
On, Vader! on, Obi-Wan! on, Yoda and Boba!
To the top of the hull! to the top of the durasteel!
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 ship-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Solo too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the thruster St. Solo came with a bound.
He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a smuggler 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 deathstix he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a skinny little belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
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 falcon, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the dawn of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
I hope you all enjoyed the parody I created on the famous poem A Visit From St. Nicholas - by Clement Clarke Moore
I was inspired by [member="Popo"] because of his hilarious post!
Oh and below is designated for Alura faction members, though feel free for anyone to join in the spirit of Christmas!
ps: I cannot write poetry
Niyla smiled as she read from the old book, a small fire flickering over the rusty 'ol ship. The young ringmaster fluttered her pink eyes as she looked around, all the stockings stuffed full.
Stockings for [member="Shawn Withers"] , to the brim with knives, for [member="James Justice"] with packs of cigarettes for days to come, for [member="Malik"] as well, a new rapier wrapped with a bow, for [member="Gun Gan Booma"], a nice wrapping of tnt topped with a box a matches, for [member="Elizabeth Verdan"] and a new set of claws, and for [member="Matsu Ike"], a medical pack.
The smuggler sat up from the chair, pulling her hair from its ponytail and letting it rest across her shoulders. She walked to the hall, leaving cookies for ol St. Solo and his wookie first mate. Merrily she carried on her way, passing through the main living quarters and seeing if the carnies were all asleep, perhaps some were up, and would come to her on this Christmas Eve. So they may discuss the galaxy in all its festivities.
For now though she waited, the merry ringmaster placing the book of poems back into her library.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a droid was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the thrusters with care,
In hopes that St. Solo soon would be there;
The characters and writers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of space-battles danced in their heads;
And acrobats in their ’tights, the ship adorned with lights,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the stars there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the captain's chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The planet on the breast of the new-fallen star
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature flacon, and eight tiny duinuogwuin,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be coming in a lick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Luke! now, Leia! now, Lando and Chewy!
On, Vader! on, Obi-Wan! on, Yoda and Boba!
To the top of the hull! to the top of the durasteel!
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 ship-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Solo too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the thruster St. Solo came with a bound.
He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a smuggler 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 deathstix he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a skinny little belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
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 falcon, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the dawn of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
I hope you all enjoyed the parody I created on the famous poem A Visit From St. Nicholas - by Clement Clarke Moore
I was inspired by [member="Popo"] because of his hilarious post!
Oh and below is designated for Alura faction members, though feel free for anyone to join in the spirit of Christmas!
ps: I cannot write poetry
Niyla smiled as she read from the old book, a small fire flickering over the rusty 'ol ship. The young ringmaster fluttered her pink eyes as she looked around, all the stockings stuffed full.
Stockings for [member="Shawn Withers"] , to the brim with knives, for [member="James Justice"] with packs of cigarettes for days to come, for [member="Malik"] as well, a new rapier wrapped with a bow, for [member="Gun Gan Booma"], a nice wrapping of tnt topped with a box a matches, for [member="Elizabeth Verdan"] and a new set of claws, and for [member="Matsu Ike"], a medical pack.
The smuggler sat up from the chair, pulling her hair from its ponytail and letting it rest across her shoulders. She walked to the hall, leaving cookies for ol St. Solo and his wookie first mate. Merrily she carried on her way, passing through the main living quarters and seeing if the carnies were all asleep, perhaps some were up, and would come to her on this Christmas Eve. So they may discuss the galaxy in all its festivities.
For now though she waited, the merry ringmaster placing the book of poems back into her library.
