Twas the night before Carnage- a BBQ holiday poem

[Steven P]

Twas the night before Carnage, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The meat was placed in the smoker with care, In hopes that my family soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of fatties danced in their heads. And mamma with charcoal, and I with the lighter, Had just tweaked the vents for a long winters all-nighter.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I saw a big flash, Santa ran into the smoker after tipping over the trash.

The moon on the breast of my tipped-over rig I was teary at the site of the cold grounded pig. As I pried my eyes open, one and then two, There was St. Nick with bourbon and brew!

With a little old driver, so chubby and slow, I knew in a moment, the Q he did know. Smelling of whiskey and beer, the curses they came, As he spotted the meat, and called it by name!

"Now Sausage! Now, Pork Ribs! Now, Fatties and Venison! On, Brisket! On, Rib-eyes! On Turkey and Chicken! He up-righted the smoker! Lit the fire and all! Arranging the meat, down to the last moinkball.

With dry wood in the firebox, the embers did fly, The grand smell of smoked meat, took to the sky. So up to the house-top the aroma it flew, With the smoker full of meat, and some ABTs too.

And then, in a stumbling, I heard on the roof The staggering and tripping of each F-ing hoof. As I took a big hit off my favorite bottle, Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a waddle.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of meat he had flung on his back, As he reached in the top, and pulled out a rack.

His eyes were all red, from the booze and the smoke, I knew he was famished, and his belly I poked! With drool on his mouth and a tear in his eye, I gave him some taters and a juicy rib-eye.

The bone of the steak he smacked with his lips, As he wiped his chin clean of the gravy and drips. He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old guy, When he talked about leaving I started to cry! A belch from his gut and a shake of his head, I knew there were still lots of others unfed.

He spoke not a word, half wobbly and nauseous, And filled all the stockings, with dry rubs and sauces . After pulling his finger, then holding my nose, He gave me a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He stumbled 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, as he flew out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"



--- Shamelessly stolen from Reddit.