'Twas the night before Christmas, at 20th and Blake
Not a creature was stirring, not even Dinger was awake;
The stockings were hung in the dugout with care,
In hopes that St. Bridich soon would be there;
Rockies fans were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of pennants danced in their heads;
And Walt Weiss in his jersey, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out on the diamond there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed 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 moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a luster of midday to objects below,
When what did I see looking way up there,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny ballplayers,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Bridich.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Tulo! now, CarGo! now Nolan and Corey!
On, Jorge! on, Tyler! Jon Gray and Trevor Story!
To the top of the soreboard! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to The Rooftop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Bridich too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the sky
A roar like a strikeout or maybe a big fly.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down to the field St. Bridich came with a bound.
He was dressed all in pinstripes, from his pants to his shirt,
And his clothes were all tarnished with grass stains and dirt;
A bundle of ontracts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like an agent 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,
As for a beard on his chin there was nothing to show;
The stump of a pen he held tight in his fist,
And the ink, it wrote down free agents in a list;
He had a slim face and a not much of a belly
He had packed with him a lunch of peanut butter and jelly.
He was cunning and careful, a right proper GM,
And I couldn't help but wonder which players he'd bring in;
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,
Signing Daniel Descalso, who doesn't seem like a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, back to The Rooftop 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—
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
(Adapted from "A Visit from St. Nicholas" by Clement Clarke Moore)