Twas the night before Christmas
and throughout the substation,
Not a deputy stirred,
they were all on vacation.
The stockings were hung on the wall
with great care,
Next to some T-shirts and old underwear.
I was working the night shift
compiling stats,
Answering the phone,
and feeding the rat.
When all of a sudden
there arose such a clatter,
I leapt from my desk to see
what was the matter!
I opened the door
with a creak and a crick,
And saw a jolly red fat man
I knew must be St. Nick.
I had seen his picture
a time or two,
He was wanted:
Article 27 - Section 342.
I threw open the door
and commanded him "Freeze!"
"Put your hands on you head
and get down on your knees."
But he turned and he ran,
up the chimney he flew,
with me in pursuit,
toward Booth St. I knew.
When we got to the roof
Santa made for his sleigh,
Throwing down toys
and blocking my way.
As I got to the peak,
he threw down some crack,
I slipped and I fell
landing flat on my back.
To my front I was faced
with a toy M-1 tank,
And Pink Power Rangers
covering my flank.
"On Dasher, on Dancer!",
he cried loud and clear.
Then I got off three rounds
and just missed the lead deer.
And I heard Santa say
as he sailed into the blue,
"Merry Christmas to all!
My Lawyers will sue!"
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