Work Text:
‘Twas the night before Christmas; alone in my home,
With my kin all in bed, the dark hallways I roamed.
A recent arrival from far-distant climes,
My travels had set me to sleep at odd times,
And so it was on the eve of Christ’s birth
Only I stayed awake at conclusion of mirth.
In the silence of night I restlessly paced,
When all of a sudden the quiet was erased.
From the living room I heard such a noise, such a clatter;
I ran straight away to see what was the matter.
Into darkness I came, wondering what it could be;
I turned on the light and looked toward the tree,
When what by my startled eyes I see there,
But a redheaded star and an angel dark-haired.
At the top of the tree two ornaments fought,
Arguing o’er whom should claim highest spot.
“Shove over!” cried Star. “The top is for me!
Down at the bottom is where you should be!”
“Not I!” cried the angel. “To bottom you drop!
Your place is below; Zan belongs at the top!”
“Cease all this fuss; why make all this noise?
It’s Christmas,” I said, “so apologize, boys.
Go on, give each other a kiss and a hug;
Sweep all this unpleasantness under the rug.
The bottom,” I said, “is as fun as the top.
Learn to take turns; this fighting must stop.”
Both Zan and Star took my wise words to heart;
So much so that I found it best to depart.
“Bottom” and “top” were literally meant;
They interpreted with metaphorical bent.
The Yule tree, I fear, will ne’er be the same;
I, confusing my family, avoid it with shame.
I cannot explain what it is that I saw;
Was it real, a dream, a vision from God?
Hallucination brought on by eggnog expired?
Whate’er, for sure, next year I’ll use the spire.